


Morphed

by luciferinmyhead



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Child Abuse, Chimera!Ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 136,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferinmyhead/pseuds/luciferinmyhead
Summary: Edward is kidnapped and after many painful Transmutations, turned into a Wolf-Chimera. After being rescued he is determined that no one can find out about him. But as time passes it becomes harder to cope, and he realizes he has to tell someone. But who can he trust enough to keep his secret?ParentalMaes, AbusiveRoy, ProtectiveRoy.Mentions of rape.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Someday you'll know the pain  
> Someday the light will break through  
> And nothing you tell yourself  
> Will save us from the truth  
> Screaming out!
> 
> ~Sick (Evanescence)

"I want them found!" Mustang bellowed, slamming his hands on his desk. His staff were all stunned into silence; he'd never, ever, reacted to anything with this kind of ferocity. Never had they witnessed him lose all of his carefully constructed control in such a manner, especially not in this kind of situation. But dammit, something here felt so wrong.

"S-sir." Lieutenant Hawkeye stuttered, before recomposing herself. If anything, at least he could count on her to keep her cool. "I'm sure Edward is fine, sir. He's gone missing before, and for much longer periods of time. He'll most likely report back in a few days, sir."

"Lieutenant, something is wrong. I feel it in my bones. It's been a week since anyone has seen or heard from him or his brother. Something's happened to them, and I want to know what. I want them back here." He said. He knew there was no way he could explain this feeling of dread in a way that would make logical sense to anyone other than himself, but he just knew that there was something really, really bad happening, right now. The dread clawed at his gut, and it made him feel sick.

"Sir, you know those boys, they're perfectly capable of-" She began, but Mustang cut her off.

"Hawkeye they were supposed to report in to western H.Q days ago. It was a very simple mission, go to West City, catch the criminal, come back. It should not have taken them this long. I'm telling you, Hawkeye, something's wrong."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No matter how much pain he was in, Edward refused to give his captors the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

He was on his knees, wrists shackled above his head to the wall behind him. His shirt had been removed, and his braid had been cut off. He missed the weight of it on his back. He also missed -and he never thought he would ever think this- his auto-mail arm. This new, flesh arm that had been Transmuted to his body was foreign and felt so wrong because it wasn't his arm. And it wasn't his leg. He didn't want to know where his captors had found the arm and leg, or how they had got them, because thinking about it made him sick, but wearing someone else's arm and someone else's leg made him feel disgusting and violated. Of course, that violated feeling could have been because of the actual violation he had experienced throughout that days that he had been down here (he wasn't actually sure where he was, but for now he was willing to refer to it as 'down').

His body shivered as a regretfully familiar finger trailed down his naked chest. He squeezed his eyes shut - though the blindfold made the action pointless - and held back tears as that finger trailed up and down and up again. More fingers joined them, and then both of the man's hands where on his chest, pushing him back into the wall, and the full weight of the man's body leaned against him, with no barrier of clothes between them, and Edward tried to prepare himself for the further violation that was coming.

It had to have been hours, but eventually Edward's captor was done with him once more, and left, leaving Ed shivering and hurt in the cold. I wouldn't be for long, though, no. In a few minutes, the rest of the guys would be back, and they would pick him up and place him inside the circle, and then they would continue their experiments. They would continue to morph and transform his body, into the grotesque creature that they wanted him to become. But these were no amateur alchemists, make no mistake. They knew exactly how to change him so that he could also change himself. When they eventually finished entirely, he would have the ability to pick and choose his form, whenever he pleased. They told him this was a gift that he was receiving, but he didn't think of it that way. He thought of it as a curse. His mind traveled to Nina, to the little girl she had once been, and to the abomination she had been turned into. It was like that. Except slightly different.

Compared to these guys, Shou Tucker might as well have been a child messing around with play-doh.

He flinched as he heard the door to his isolated little room squeak open, and hung his head as the shackles at his wrist - and the not-his-wrist - were undone and he was hoisted over the shoulder of one of the alchemists who would soon Transmute him, and carried to the experimentation room. The one where all the files on his progress were kept, the one where all the alchemy occurred. After several minutes of walking and turning, they entered the room, and his blindfold was removed. He blinked several times to adjust his eyes to the brightness of the room, and he was set down in the middle of the circle. He glared as one of the many people in the room took a photograph of him with one of those cameras that printed it out immediately after, and stuck it on a bit of paper, scratching notes next to it.

He knew where that paper was going to go. After this Transmutation was complete, it would be slipped into a yellow folder labeled 'Experiment #13', and then that folder would be placed in the cabinet in the corner of the room, in the drawer where the rest of his files were kept. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged himself, waiting for the six alchemists to each press down on a point of the hexagon within the circle.

Eyes shut tight, he heard six pairs of hands slap the concrete floor in sync, and then the pain began. It flowed through him, scorching his veins, changing his bones, his skin, his self. The wolf inside the opposite Circle howled in pain, dropping to the floor and curling in on itself, as it's DNA attributes were analyzed, replicated, and merged into Edward's being. Edward clenched his teeth and bit his tongue to keep from roaring in pain as the wolf's genetics were implanted into his own. A sudden burst of extra agony erupted from his tailbone, and without looking he knew that it was elongating. His face was then in agonizing pain as it too began to stretch, to grow, to become similar in appearance to the snout of the sandy-coloured wolf that he was being turned into.

He pitched forward as the pain in his rear became too overpowering, and sat on his knees and his arms, waiting for the pain to be over. He whimpered as the bones in his hands suddenly dislocated themselves. The fingers grew longer and his hands spread wider, and he cut the skin on the claws that had become of his nails. Again he grunted in pain as the bones in his feet grew rapidly in size, and more, smaller claws grew from his toenails.

For a moment he was able to open his eyes and see that golden fur had begun to grow from his skin, and quickly he shut them again, not wanting to see the monster he had become.

The crackling of alchemy that was all around him gradually died down, and so did the pain. When the alchemy that kept his body in wolf form disappeared, the new form slipped away, and his body became human again, but he knew that that wouldn't last for much longer. Eventually, the transformation would be complete, and soon, probably, the circle would be modified so that when it's power died down, Ed's wolf form did not leave with it, but stayed with his body, and then he would have to be taught how to control it, how to use it, how to restrain it.

He didn't know what would happen to him after that.

Gasping, Edward sat up, and was conscious of more photographs being taken of him. He gave the cameraman the most terrifying death stare he could muster, and, judging by the shiver that ran through the man, it worked. Ed heard the wolf yelp as it was grabbed by the scruff of it's neck and carried back to it's cage in the next room, and he flinched as he was taken by the arm, none too gently, and pulled over to the man who, from context, Edward assumed was the ringleader of this particular operation.

"How do you feel, Edward?" He asked, eyes blazing. He was a fairly average sized man, with blonde hair cut short and blue eyes that looked like ice. His face was kind of pudgy, and he had a really, really big nose. He also had a thin mustache that curled at the ends, and the man had a habit of pulling on it as he talked. Edward would have liked to pull it, all right, right off the mans stupid face.

As he always did, Edward remained silent, refusing to acknowledge the bastard who was turning him into a monster.

"Still giving us the silent treatment, aye, Elric? Well, it will only backfire on you later on, so I would not recommend keeping it up." He waited a few moments, and when Edward still did not say anything, he nodded to the big man that was holding Ed, and then the blindfold was wrapped around his eyes again and he was taken back to his cell.

Re-shackled to the wall, Edward sighed and slumped against it. The cuffs bit into the skin, and he wished that they at least had given him some sort of bandage to stop it. Although, the thought was maid void by the reality of the situation, that being that if they were willing to put him through indescribable amounts of pain to make him into a chimera, they probably didn't give two damns about his sore wrists. He listened to the fading steps of his captors, as they walked back to discuss the experiment that had just passed, and when they finally faded away, the silence was deafening. A sob racked his chest, and he hung his head, praying that he would be found soon. His body clock did not work down here, but he presumed he had been gone for at least a few days. By now, Al should have panicked enough to call someone - Mustang, probably, and his heart lurched. Poor Al, he had been through so much, with their mum dying, the failed Transmutation, losing his body and being stuck in that hulking suit of armor, and now this. Alphonse would be worried sick, and Edward hated that he was the reason why.

Edward narrowed his eyes as he thought of Mustang, sitting behind his desk in his big fancy office, smiling that cocky, nonchalant smile of his, ignoring his paperwork and forcing his subordinates to work their asses off to make up for his own laziness. Ed had not been under Mustang's command very long; three or four months, maximum, but he knew without a doubt that he didn't like the man. He was so...detached, from everything around him except his own personal goal of climbing the ranks. Nobody had told him anything of the sort, but Edward could see it in the gleam of his eyes every time he came into contact with someone above him. Those midnight eyes, they shouted silent words, take care, soon I will be above you. It was impossible not to miss.

He shifted position in an effort to get comfortable, and a lance of spread through him, emanating from the rib he had broken, trying to fight off the men who had initially captured him. He had been walking away from the Military Hotel, it was roughly eight or nine in the morning, late enough for him not to be too noticed walking the streets but too early for too many people to be out. He supposed that was why nobody had noticed when four burly men, all dressed in a deep black, had come at him from all directions, just a block away from his destination (one of the alchemical libraries in the sad little town of Yectora), and tried to get a burlap sack of his head. He had fought back, hard, and broken one of the guy's noses. In return he had gotten a huge fist to the left side, and one of his ribs had cracked. Of course no one was going to bother to get that checked up on, they seemed to relish in his pain, but it hurt like a bitch and Ed was glad that afterwards, before they'd shoved the rag soaked with chloroform in his face, that he'd managed to kick the asshole's crotch with his auto-mail foot.

Since then, Edward had gone through five or six Transmutations like the one that had just gone, and every time it was that much more painful. He wasn't sure if his body could take much more of it, to be perfectly honest. He was sure that eventually the pain would become too much and he would die of it. He wished that those thoughts wouldn't consistently enter his mind, but he was unable to do anything to stop them. They were like a reoccurring dream, or perhaps more like a nightmare. Unable to push them away, he let them swim around his head for a while, until they had run their course, and eventually they faded away, replaced by different thoughts, thoughts of his mother.

He remembered the time, so long ago but yet it could have been yesterday, when he had visited the Gate. He had seen the Truth, the white creature that had imitated his form, had shown him an immeasurable amount of information in return for a toll: his left leg. When he had awoken from this experience, in more pain than he was in now, with a leg torn cleanly off, he had looked up, hoping beyond hope to see his mother, alive and well, and he had seen the complete opposite. His mother was alive, but she was far from well. Her skin was black, her eyes glowing red, and her body was a jumble of over-sized limbs and protruding bones. She could barely breathe, yet she reached her hand out all the same to the son that had reduced her to this, and that action alone had been too much. He had coughed blood and died, just like that. That was when Edward had realized that he was all alone. He had killed his mother, he had killed his brother. He could have, possibly, lived with Al being gone (and he had hated himself, and still did, just for thinking it) if only his mother had been brought back to life. But it had not worked, and now Alphonse, his baby brother, was gone, and he was all alone in the world.

In a split second he had known what to do. He hauled his tiny little body over to one of Hohenheim's antique suits of armor and knocked it over, crawling to the neck and, with his own blood, drawn a seal that would return his brother's soul and bind it to the metal. Without realizing he was doing it, he clapped his hands, feeling the surge of alchemy flow through him, and pressed his palms on each side of the blood seal. Instantaneously, he had been dragged back through the portal, by those hundreds of little black hands that could stretch forever, and once again he stood before Truth. It smiled.

"Back again, are you?" It said. "You fool."

Truth had taken his arm in return for his brother's soul, and they had both been sent back through the Portal and returned to the basement.

Forcefully, Edward pushed the memory back. There was no point reminiscing something that had happened two years ago.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

More time had passed by, more, immeasurable amounts of time, passed by with pain. His captors had finished experimenting on him now. He was a completed experiment. A completed chimera. Number thirteen, the wolf. At will, he could now force his body to change shape, so that he took on the appearance of a golden wolf. He stood on two legs, his feet elongated, his fingers tipped with deadly claws. His face would stretch to resemble a wolf's muzzle, and his body would sprout golden fur. Right now he was being trained to get used to the body, and he was surprised at how it did not seem to feel unnatural. It didn't hurt to transform anymore, and he hated to admit that every time he fought with this new body, he felt a new kind of furious adrenaline that he had never had before, and he liked it. He enjoyed the feeling, while it was happening.

And he hated himself for it.

Edward narrowed his eyes. He thought he could, very faintly, hear shouting, and then an enormous explosion rocked the ground, and bits of rock and sand fell from the roof, confirming Edward's suspicions that he was underground. With some new-found instinct, his body reacted automatically, transforming into the wolf that made him stronger. He tore the blindfold off of his face and slashed at the chains that bound him, and suddenly he was free. He burst out of his prison, not bothering to take in any of it's details, and was about to run when he realized he had no idea which way to go.

The shouting grew louder, and he recognized two of the voices.

Mustang's.

And Hughes'.

They must have come for him, he realized, and his heart filled with excited warmth at the thought. He had thought that everybody had abandoned him, after all, why would they...want...him...now...? He was a chimera, a filthy, low, half-human creature that wasn't worth saving. As quickly as it had come the warm feeling was gone, and he realized that they could never, ever know what he was. He had to get to those files before they could read them. Closing his eyes, as calmly as he could, he counted the steps and turns he had memorized, until he was in the room that he had come to think of as his own personal Hell. He threw his eyelids open as soon as he passed through the door, and it occurred to him that the whole place was abandoned. They must have known that mustang was coming, and fled. Well, all the better for him.

With alchemy, he opened up the filing cabinet that contained all of the documents concerning him, and flicked through all of them until he came across the one labeled 'Experiment 13'. He yanked it out and and pulled out all of the papers. Separating them, he replaced everything that did not mention his transformation back into the file, which in turn went back into the cabinet. He re-alchemized the lock shut, and stuffed the rest of them, which was actually only about six or seven pages, into the pocket of his cloak (he had found his clothes in a box next to the cabinet, and had roughly pulled them on before anyone could see him).

Realizing that he was utterly exhausted, he slumped against the wall, sliding down it until he was sitting, and wrapped his arms around his knees, hiding his head, and waited.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maes watched as Roy snapped his fingers, and everything became chaos. There were men running everywhere, both friend and foe, the friends running to capture the foes who had been immobilized by the roaring fires.

They had finally done it. After being MIA for over a month and a half, a lead had finally turned up as to Edward's whereabouts. Maes' team had traced everything they could find, and all of it had led back to this building, two towns over from where Edward had last been seen. They had no idea what might be waiting for them inside, but both Maes and Mustang and Mustang's team had been willing to risk it, if it meant finding Ed. Maes hadn't known the young, quiet, forlorn kid for long, but upon meeting him in Mustang's office after the incident with Issac McDougal, he had taken a great liking to the child. Even more so after he had invited him and his brother into his house when they didn't have anywhere else to stay. They were good kids, those two, and didn't deserve the pain they'd had to endure.

"Hughes!" Mustang barked. "Take Havoc and Breda and search the building, top to bottom! Find Fullmetal!"

"Yes, sir!" Maes said, waving Jean and Heymans over to him, and together they searched every room of the building, and when their efforts were fruitless they went below and investigated down there. They found several rooms full of animals, locked away in cages, all of them severely malnourished and, by the looks of it, in immense amounts of pain. There were various assortments of them, too. A dog, a frog, a cow, a snake, a lizard, a wolf, even a Goddamn crocodile. In the room after there only dead animals, among them a boar, a lion, and a gorilla. Maes wondered about the intense variety of animals for a moment, before he was broken out of his thoughts by Breda, who was calling him and Havoc over, sounding urgent.

Havoc and himself found themselves in a room that looked like it had been hollowed out by alchemy, and where increasingly disturbed by what they saw. On the far wall were two chains, drilled into the rock, and they had been slashed by what would have to have been some sort of saw. It didn't look like that was what it had been, but no other explanation would come to Maes' mind. On the floor below was a mixture of dried blood and pale whiteness that Maes studiously tried to ignore, knowing immediately what it was. Whoever had been here had been raped, and Maes prayed to a deity he didn't believe in that it wasn't Edward who had been trapped here.

"Let's go, he's obviously not here." He said, his voice strained. Breda and Havoc nodded, and followed him out they way they came.

They had to walk through several passageways, each of which broke off into different hallways filled with different rooms, so Hughes decided that it would be quicker if they just split up. Maes went right, Breda went left and Havoc went down the middle. After searching more rooms, each of them containing similarities to what he had seen before, with a few minor differences he didn't care to think about, he eventually came to the last room, right down the end of the hall, and, cautiously, he opened the door with a creak.

The moment he walked through the door, he was hit with the smell of alchemy. He never had realized that alchemy actually had a smell before, but he knew now. It smelled like burned wires, or maybe burned rope, but either way, the smell was almost breathtaking, and he had to pause for a moment to inhale and exhale a few times before he could continue. In the center of the room where two giant Transmutation Circles. Knowing absolutely zilch of anything when it came to alchemy, he could not determine what they were for, exactly, but they looked like they would have taken hours of time and a Hell of a lot of chalk to draw. To the immediate left of the room were several desks, with accompanying chairs tossed over, as though the occupants had left in a hurry.

On those desks were several papers, all of them apparently concerning a particular woman whose name was Martel. Looking at the photo beside the name, the woman had blonde hair cropped short, with a few particularly long strands of hair falling over one side of her face. She had bright green eyes, and a green tattoo of roughly swirling lines and edges on her right shoulder. He didn't bother reading the rest of the pages, but at the bottom of this particular one was a picture of the green snake he had seen earlier.

He was getting a bad feeling about this.

To the left of the room was a series of filing cabinets, but his attention was drawn to the one near the corner. From behind it, he could see a hint of red. Narrowing his eyes, he drew his pistol, flicking off the safety and aiming it at the cabinet. At the sound of the switch, a small whimper sounded from behind the cabinet and the red moved, and Maes could see now that it was fabric. Lowering the gun slightly so that it would actually hit the person behind if need be, he said: "Raise your hands above your head and come out from behind there. I have a gun and I will shoot if I have to."

"H-Hughes?" A meek voice asked, and a moment later Edward poked his head out, two flesh hands above his head.

"Edward!" Maes exclaimed, clicking the safety back on and holstering the gun before running to the small boy and wrapping his arms about him. "Ed, are you alright?" He asked, suddenly breathless. It was as though a great weight had been sitting on his chest, and finally finding Ed had removed it completely. He felt so happy in that moment he could have cried, and it took great restraint not to.

"I-I'm fine." Edward whispered. Maes realized Edward probably did not feel comfortable being hugged like this, so Maes quickly let go, choosing instead to sit both of his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Edward, your arm! You got it back!" Hughes said. Instantly, he saw the blood drain from Ed's face, and the boy looked as though he were going to be sick.

"It's not...it's not mine." He murmured, so quietly that Maes almost didn't hear it.

"Say that again, Ed?" He asked, just to be sure he had heard what he thought he had just heard.

"It's not my arm." Ed whispered.

"What do you mean? What happened? Edward?" Maes tightened his grip on the boys shoulders as they began to shake, and he realized that Edward was trying desperately not to cry.

"I-it's not...it's not my...It's not mine..." He choked, and Maes pulled him into another hug.

"Shhh, it's okay Ed. You don't have to tell me right now. It's okay, Ed. Easy." He cooed, rocking Edward gently back and forth, until the shaking stopped and Edward lifted his head, sniffling. He wiped his eyes and tried to smile.

"I'm okay now," He said, "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." Maes assured him, knowing that Edward would be internally cursing himself for appearing so weak. "Now, let's get you out of here."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodnight, sleep tight  
> No more tears  
> In the morning I'll be here  
> And when we say goodnight,  
> Dry your eyes  
> Because we said goodnight,  
> And not goodbye
> 
> ~Goodnight (Evanescence)

Roy Mustang was furious. Ever since Edward had gone missing, just over a month and a half ago, he had been worried sick. But now that Edward was back, instead of the feeling of relief he'd been expecting, all he felt was rage. The kid had been missing for weeks, and when he was found he looked as though nothing had even happened to him during that time. There were a few bruises around his shoulders and one cracked rib, but that was all, and Ed said that that was just from being captured.

Hughes' team had gone down into the room where Maes had found Ed, and they had recovered countless files concerning Edward and about twelve other people. Of these twelve people, all of them had been successfully been turned into chimeras of various kinds, and they had all been dated so that Roy could get an accurate estimate of how long it had taken for each person to be Transmuted, and that time was about a month. Edward had been down there a month and a half, minimum. Yet there he claimed that they hadn't experimented on him yet. Roy didn't believe him. He had gone through all of Edward's files that had been found at the scene, and there appeared to be pages missing. The first few pages were dated the day he had been reported missing by Alphonse, and then there were gaps. From what Roy could gather, there was at least one page per day, or one per two, and there were roughly seven or eight dates missing from the whole collection.

He hadn't read extensively each page, mainly just the dates and some of the photographs; he had handed them over to Maes to investigate before he had had the chance, but he didn't like what he was seeing. All evidence suggested that Edward should have been like the others, yet he wasn't. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with him at all.

The thing that concerned Roy the most though was Edward's new limbs. Maes had said the the kid had gone white as a sheet when he'd asked about them, and that he'd said that they weren't his limbs, and then broken down. Edward was yet to elaborate.

There was something Edward wasn't telling him, and Roy intended to find out what.

"Sir?" Riza's voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her from the uncomfortable hospital waiting chair that he'd been sitting in.

"Yeah?" He asked, a little bluntly.

"The doctors say that if you wish to see Edward, you may do so now." She told him.

"Thanks, Lieutenant." He said, heading toward the room that Edward was being treated in. She saluted him as he passed, and sat down on the chair he had just vacated. Passing several doors, he finally found the one Ed was in, and quietly pushed it open. Inside, Edward was lying on one of the beds, propped up on several pillows. He was wearing a hospital-issue white shirt, and Roy could see some of the bruises escape the collar, curling up around his neck and shoulders. He also noticed - he hadn't before - that Edward's hair had been cut. No longer did a golden braid fall down his shoulders, instead it was cut short, and Roy realized he liked it better that way. There was a nurse with a clipboard asking Edward things like 'where does it hurt the most' and 'rate your pain on a scale of one to ten' and such nurse-like questions. Roy cleared his throat, and both Edward and the nurse snapped their heads in his direction.

"Excuse me, doctor, but could I please have a few moments of privacy with Major Elric?" He asked politely.

"Of course." The nurse said, nodding her head and shuffling out the door, closing it behind her.

"So how are you feeling, Fullmetal?" Roy asked.

"I've had worse." Ed replied. Roy nodded, and sat down in a chair next to the bed.

"Are you going to tell me how you got those limbs?" He inquired. Just as Maes had said, Edward went stark white, and his hands began to shake mildly.

"They-they put them on me." Edward said at last, his voice low and frightened. "They said...that the Transmutation would be easier if I had...if I didn't have the auto-mail, so they took all of it off, and they...they Transmuted these ones onto me."

"And how they Hell did they do that?" Mustang asked skeptically.

"I-I don't know. I was blindfolded the whole time."

"Convenient, that, isn't it?"

"What?"

"I said," Mustang repeated, "That it seems highly convenient that you were blindfolded the entire time, and you can't tell me anything of use, yet...when Hughes found you, there was no such blindfold to be found."

"Where is Al?" Edward asked suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"Where is my brother. I want him here, he needs to know that I'm okay." Edward said.

"You're changing the subject, Elric." Roy pointed out.

"Get me my brother." Edward said firmly.

Mustang narrowed his eyes. "Why won't you just tell me the truth, Edward. I can tell that you're hiding something, and I want you to tell me."

Edward stayed silent. Mustang clenched his fists, and the sound of the fabric of his gloves rubbing together filled the silence. His blood was singing in his ears, and his chest felt like it was about to explode with rage! How dare this kid, this twelve your old kid, a mere MAJOR, refuse to answer HIM, a COLONEL! He could have torched the kid there and then, but that would put him in a really awkward position with the brass, and that would do nothing to help him climb the political ladder. So instead, he took in a deep breath, un-clenched his fists, and tried again. "Edward, I'm asking you, please tell me what happened down there in that basement. Any information you can give us will help catch the guys that kidnapped you."

Ed didn't answer him, instead he clenched his own fists and readjusted his gaze to the bed sheets. Roy's patience ran out. "Edward, as your commanding officer, I am ordering you to tell me everything that happened down there in that Goddamn basement!" It only added fuel to the fire when Edward continued to ignore him, and in a burst of rage he backhanded the kid's face. Ed's head snapped to the side, but his eyes were focused solely on Mustang, and they were burning with barely contained rage. His fists were clenched so tightly that he had managed to cut his palms, and every muscle visible was strained tight. Mustang didn't care if he'd hurt him. Edward was a soldier and as such was obliged to follow orders. "I want you back at the office by Monday morning, and I want a full report on everything that happened. And Edward." He paused, making sure Edward followed his words carefully. "If you don't give me that report, there'll be consequences."

He spun on his heel and left the hospital room. He passed Hawkeye on his way out, and she jumped up and matched his stride in a heartbeat without saying a word, and Roy was grateful. He needed a few minutes to cool off before he spoke to anyone, or he's end up snapping at them. He headed back to Central H.Q, glad they were back in the city, and when he arrived he went straight to his office to look over what he'd got on what had been officially dubbed the 'Chimera Lab Case', determined to figure it all out.

Today was Thursday, which meant that Edward had exactly four days to get that report written. It wouldn't be a problem for him; his injuries were minor at best, and he was only being held there for the rest of the afternoon for observation. He was perfectly capable of having a report written by then. The question was: would he do it?

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Maes' grip on the papers trembled, and he had to put them down for a moment to collect himself before reading on. He'd only read a few pages of it all so far, and already he wanted to throw up. What was written here was disgusting, vile and sickening. Maes knew that what he had in his possession wasn't even all of the documents, he and Mustang had discussed the obviously missing filed earlier, but still he did not want to read on. There was so much detail in what was written, and so many pictures to accompany the writing, and it was just so...intense.

All through the pages were detailed descriptions of Edward's rape, and pictures to go along that Maes had to look at because they were part of the evidence, and he just wanted to rip it all to pieces and erase it all forever, as though it would take back what had been done to Edward. In the picture he currently had in his hand, he could clearly see Edward's face, scrunched up and in pain, eyes invisible behind the blindfold. On top of him was a big, muscular man with short brown hair, who was straddling Ed's hips. He was facing away from the camera, and Maes knew that it was intentional. The people who had taken Edward kept every single detail of their captives kept on file, from the size of their feet to the food they were given each night, so it made sense that they would want to document this too, but if situations like this arose, they couldn't have any of themselves identified, so they had to make sure that they were not facing the camera.

Bastards. Maes thought to himself as he read on. I could kill them all.

Just then someone knocked on the door of his office, and he turned the paper face down on the table before calling in his visitor. In walked a Sergeant, and behind him was Gracia, his wife, with baby Elicia in her arms. "Your wife is here to see you, sir." The sergeant said.

"Thank you. Dismissed." He said kindly, and he saluted Maes before leaving. Maes waved Gracia over and she gladly obliged, giving Maes a peck on the cheek before setting Elicia down on the carpet.

"Hi, Maes." She said.

"Hey, Gracia." Maes replied tiredly. "What're you doing here?"

"Miss Hawkeye called. She asked me to let you know that Edward will be released from the hospital soon, and if we could put him up for the night. His brother is still a few days away from here." Gracia told him.

"Sure, I'd be glad to have him stay." Maes said distractedly, his mind still on what he had read. Gracia, ever and always the best wife he could have ever found, noticed his distraction.

"Maes, dear, is everything all right?" She asked kindly, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Not really, hon." He answered truthfully. "It's this case, it's gonna do my head in. We've just got Ed back a few days ago, after a month and a half of him being missing, and my team gathered everything they could find at the scene, and I've just been looking over it all, and look at this! Look at what they did to poor Ed!" Despite military protocol being that he was not to share evidence or intelligence with civilians, he showed her the papers anyway, because she was his wife, and he new without a doubt that he could trust her. He watched her eyes as they scanned the paper, and after her eyes caught sight of the picture, she gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth, dropping the page back onto his desk.

"Oh my..." She whispered. "Oh my God, poor Edward!"

"Yeah, I know." He said, rubbing his thumbs in his eyes. "And the worst part about it is that this isn't even all of it. There are lots of documents missing from this, and I have a strong feeling that Edward has them. Something a lot worse than this happened to him down in that basement, Gracia, but he's far too proud to admit any of it."

"Hmm..."

"Gracia?"

"Maes, I don't know that boy very well, but I think it's something more than pride, here. From what I can tell of him, he values himself as others value him. Maybe the things your missing tell something more than just something that would wound his pride. Is it possible that something happened that would make him believe that, if you found it out, it might make you think less of him?" She asked.

"Gracia...that's it! You're right! You're amazing, you know that? Truly amazing!" He pulled her closer and kissed her, and when they let go he smiled at her. "I think I need to do some more research here, why don't you go on to the hospital and take Edward home. I'll write up an official letter of authority for you. Oh, and take Elicia with you, before she chews a hole in my couch." They both looked around to see the baby, indeed, sitting next to Maes' office couch, chewing on the side. He and Gracia burst into laughter.

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"Roy, you've gotta have a look at this." Maes said, bursting into Mustang's office. Mustang's eye twitched in annoyance. Despite being a lower rank than him, Maes never bothered to knock, salute or bow, and very rarely did he call Mustang 'sir' like he was supposed to. It didn't normally bother Mustang, because Maes was his best friend, but he was having one of the worst days he'd had in years, and he was in no mood for Maes' crap today.

"What, Hughes?" He asked tightly, clenching his fist around the pen he was holding. "I'm in the middle of a particularly huge pile of paperwork...thank you Hawkeye." He added sarcastically, shooting a glare her way.

"You're welcome, sir." She said, not looking up from the report she was writing.

"Mustang, you need to take a look at this. Some seriously...I can't even word it, just read." Maes said, handing him the papers that he'd been holding. Mustang turned them over and saw they were the files on Edward that had been found in the basement.

"What about them, Maes?" He asked.

"Just read them!" Maes said anxiously. Frowning, Mustang scanned the papers, and slowly, his eyes widened, as he realized the extremity of what Edward had been through.

"Oh my God, Maes, how did I miss all of this?" He asked in disbelief.

"I don't know, Roy, but we can't ignore this. We're gonna have to talk to Ed about it, see if we can convince him to go to therapy or something." Hughes said.

"He's not traumatized, Maes, I talked to him earlier today, and he was just as stubborn and secretive as ever." Roy said.

"Roy!" Maes exclaimed. "Were you and I reading two different pieces of paper or something? How can you say that when you just saw what happened to him?"

"He's perfectly fine. Sure, this is some extreme stuff right here, but this is Fullmetal we're talking about here. He'll be fine." Mustang argued.

Maes growled and snatched the paper back, slamming it in front of Hawkeye instead. she jumped and looked up at him, but did not say anything. "Lieutenant, would you please do me the favour of looking over these briefly and tell me what you think?" He asked her.

"Sure." She said. Both he and Hughes watched intently as she read what was put in front of her, and Roy saw the horror in them when she finally looked up. "This...this happened to Edward?" She asked finally.

"Yup." Maes said.

"This is terrible! How could he not have told us this?"

"He's a strong kid, Hawkeye." Roy said. "He probably didn't want to burden any of us with it."

"With all due respect sir, what the Hell?" Hawkeye said, stunning everyone.

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It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she instantly regretted it. But...at the same time, she didn't. What she had just read was going to leave her with nightmares for a month, and she knew Mustang had just read the exact same thing. How could he flip off something like this so easily? Edward, his twelve year old subordinate, had been raped, constantly, daily, for a little over a month and a half, and Mustang acted like it was no big deal. Fury boiled within her, and it took all her years of practice to keep her cool, collected mask in place. She had to remind herself who she was dealing with, and that helped. This was Roy Mustang, the man she had grown up with, the ever-present constant in her life when so many things weren't. She had grown up with him at her side, because he had been her father's alchemy student. She knew him better than anyone else alive today, better even than his own foster mother, and it was this that was able to make her see that he must surely have a reason for his behavior. Perhaps he knew something she didn't; perhaps he'd already spoken with Ed about it and was just doing his best to feign surprise.

That had to be it, she decided.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?" Mustang asked, a slight edge to his voice.

"Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to be so blatant. I just do not understand how you can be taking this news so lightly." She said.

"You're forgiven, Lieutenant." Mustang said, and Hawkeye's racing mind relaxed a little. "I just feel that if Edward was not coping with this, we would all be able to tell. He thinks he is good at hiding his emotions, but he is actually quite terrible at it. It's possible, that at his age, he doesn't even fully understand what happened to him."

Hawkeye had to admit, that did seem perfectly plausible. "You're right, sir, Edward probably doesn't even understand the full extent of it all. Sorry, sir." She sat down again (she hadn't even realized she'd stood up), and rubbed her temple. A killer headache was on the horizon, and she still had this report to finish. It was, at least, already half finished. That was something. The Colonel had asked each member of his staff to write full reports on everything they had seen down under that basement, and they weren't easy to do. She had seen some pretty horrifying things down there, and it wasn't even half of what Breda and Havoc had seen. They had come out of that basement quite shaken up, and she could tell that since then, neither of them had slept well. There war bags under their eyes and neither of them were joking the way they normally did. While not any of them would admit it to the Colonel, she had actually helped them both write their reports to take the strain off of them. They had both expressed their gratitude to her, and she had waved it off, not needing it. She didn't need to be thanked, she was just glad she could help them out a little bit.

She turned her gaze back to her own report, picked up the pen, and continued writing. By the time she was finished, an hour had passed by, and she was exhausted. It was late, and she just wanted to go home to her small apartment and sleep. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had left a while ago, and, at this hour, he would already be at home with his wife and daughter. And Edward, she reminded herself. Ed was staying with him and his family for the time being. He hadn't been in the military for long, so he hadn't managed to save up his salary yet, and being AWOL for a month and a half had not earned him any more, either. Alphonse was yet to arrive in Central, so it wasn't like the kid would have anywhere else he could be. Sighing, she decided she would pay him a visit before she went home.

Packing away all of her things in the drawers beneath and beside her desk, she looked over to see that she and Mustang were the only ones left. He was sitting at his desk, hunched over, staring furiously at the documents beneath him. His eyes were strained, and there were little orange and blue rings circling them. He's exhausted, she thought, He's not going to be able to concentrate when he's this tired. "Not going home, sir?" She asked. His head snapped up, startled from his work, and he relaxed when he saw that it was just her.

"No, I can't, not until I figure all of this out. I've already written my report and given it to General Hakuro, but there's still so much missing from all of this." He said, his voice low and croaky.

"Sir, you need to go home. I know you want to find what's missing, but you can't do that when you're almost falling to sleep on your desk. Please, sir, get some rest, and you can figure it all out in the morning." She pleaded, using the tone of voice she knew he could never resist. He smiled at her, and put the files away. "Thank you, sir." She said.

"No, you're right. I'm never going to get through this in my current state. I need sleep." He said, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Without another word, the two left the office, locking it for the night, and headed toward the exit for Central Command. It was late, and when they finally reached her car, the wind was blowing ,mildly, ruffling the Colonel's usually immaculate hair. The sight of it made her smile. Roy Mustang never let his appearance be anything but breathtaking. He was a handsome man, and he knew it, and he took advantage of that fact whenever he could. He was able to charm his way through almost anything, and Hawkeye both admired and abhorred it. She admired it because it was one of the many things that made him who he was, but she also hated it, because it meant that women were always on their knees for him, trying to make him theirs. This fact may not have bothered her so much if he didn't always let them. Colonel Mustang was a womanizer, everyone knew that, and it was the only thing about him that she truly despised. He was a smart man, but he could also be very, very blind. He never too notice of the subtle hints of affection she dropped every once in a while; the pats on the shoulder, ruffling of his hair, the smile she so very rarely smiled. Or perhaps it was her fault. Perhaps she was being too subtle. Perhaps she just was too good at hiding what she felt.

"Hello, earth to Hawkeye! You there?" Mustang's voice broke her out of her trance and she realized that while she'd been brooding, he'd been trying to say something.

"I'm sorry, sir, what was that?" She asked.

"I said, can you drive me home, please? I walked this morning, but it's cold and late and I don't feel like walking back tonight." He said. For some reason, she felt a small pang that he just wanted a ride home, as if she were nothing but a chauffeur, but then she realized she was just being petty.

"Sure." She said. "I'd be happy to."

"Thanks, Lieutenant." He said, putting on the smile he usually reserved for his womanizing activities. She scowled and jumped into the driver's seat, slamming the door and starting the engine before he even had a chance to shut his door. She pulled out onto the road and turned towards Mustang's apartment, which was, conveniently, the complete opposite direction to where she wanted to go.

"Lieutenant?" Mustang asked, sounding unsure.

"Yes, sir?" She asked, her voice clipped.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason, it's just that you're going way over the speed limit."

With a shock, she realized he was right, and quickly lifted her foot off of the accelerator, and the car began to slow down. On the other hand, they arrived at his home much faster than they would have normally, and she was able to get rid of him before he figured out why she felt so upset. Sighing, she turned the car around, looking in the rear-view mirror to see him waving goodbye, a small smile on his face, and that brought a smile to her own. Just the little things, they make someone feel so worthless, and they could also revive them. Colonel Mustang had a funny way of doing both. Little things, like a wave goodbye and a tired smile, could pull her out of the shadow his womanizing left her in. She stuck her hand out the window and waved back at him, and then he went inside the building.

She sighed and headed towards the Hughes house.

When she got there, after about fifteen minutes of driving from one side of Central to the other, she knocked quietly on the door, and Gracia opened it. "Hello, miss Hawkeye. For what do we owe the pleasure?" She asked. Hawkeye liked Gracia. She was always so polite and kind, and she couldn't remember the woman ever being negative about anything.

"I was wondering if I could see Edward." Hawkeye said.

"He fell asleep about an hour ago. Poor boy, he was so exhausted, with everything he's had to go through. Speaking of which, you don't look much better off, please, come in." Gracia moved aside, a clear invitation for Hawkeye to come in, and Hawkeye found she couldn't refuse. "Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?"

"Tea sounds wonderful, thank you." Hawkeye said, being completely honest. She couldn't even remember the last time she had had the time to make herself a good cup of tea.

"Hey, Hawkeye, what brings you here?" Hughes' cheerful voice sounded from around the corner, and Hawkeye walked over to him, saluting before answering.

"I was planning on paying Ed a visit, but if he's already asleep..."

"Yeah, he was really tuckered out, considering he's spent the last three days in a hospital bed. Come on, he's in the guest room. He's looks so much smaller when he sleeps." He said, with a wistfulness that only a father could possess, even if he wasn't talking about his own child. She followed Hughes quietly to where he had put Ed up for the night, and found herself smiling. Edward was sprawled on the single bed, his golden hair cascading around his face on the white pillow. The blanket had fallen down to his waste, and she could see his left hand resting on his exposed stomach. He looked...peaceful, something that she had never seen in him before.

The moment was short lived as he squinted beneath his closed eyelids and started groaning. He began to toss and turn in the bed, still groaning and mumbling. She turned to look at Hughes, who was frowning, eyebrows knitted together with concern. Looking back at Ed, she could see that the blanket had twisted itself around one of his legs - the new flesh leg. Edward moaned and gasped, trying unconsciously to pull the leg free, but it wouldn't budge. That was when his mumbles began to form comprehensible words. He kept saying 'no', over and over again, and then it became 'stop', and 'leave me alone!', and then his words became unintelligible again. Even on the other side of the room, she could see the sweat on his forehead, and she was unsure what to do.

Then he started screaming.

Before she could react, Hughes had run into the room, grabbing Edward by the shoulders and shaking him awake. The young boy lunged forward in the bed, swinging his fist in panic in Hughes' direction. Hughes didn't make any attempt to block it, instead he waited for Edward's panic to subside, waiting until Ed realized he was safe, whispering to him that he was okay, that he was safe, that he wouldn't let anything happen to him. Hawkeye saw tears in Edward's eyes, and it broke her heart. When Edward realized he had nothing to fear from Hughes, the older man pulled the child into his arms, and Ed rested his head on Hughes' shoulder. His shoulders were shaking, and Hawkeye realized he was trying to stop crying.

She vowed to herself then that she would protect him for the rest of her life. He had been through so much, and she would not let anything else hurt him.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel it deep within,  
> It's just beneath the skin  
> I must confess that I feel like a monster  
> I hate what I've become  
> The nightmare's just begun  
> I must confess that I feel like a monster  
> I, I feel like a monster  
> I, I feel like a monster
> 
> ~Monster (Skillet)

Edward walked into Mustang's office on Monday morning, with the written report in his hands. He had spent the weekend at the Hughes' house, mulling everything over, and, on Sunday night, he had decided that he didn't want to risk that 'consequence' that Mustang had warned him about, and had stayed up for hours writing down what he had in his hand. He figured it was better that than risking Mustang's anger. He had seen something disturbing in the man's eyes that day in the hospital room, something he had never seen before, and, while he would never admit it to anybody, it had frightened him. So here he was, with this dumb report (which briefly outlined everything that had happened to him in the basement except the Transmutation that had turned him into the monster he was now, including the more...intimate...things that had happened to him. Surely that would satisfy the bastard), hoping that it would be good enough. He was early, and there was nobody else in the office yet, except for Mustang and himself.

Mustang looked up when he came in, and the man's eyes narrowed. He looked...somewhat surprised, and Edward presumed that it was because he was early. His suspicions were confirmed when Mustang said as much and Edward strode through the lounge and over to his desk, handing him the yellow envelope containing his report. Mustang opened the envelope and pulled out the papers Edward had slaved over the previous night.

He scanned them briefly.

And burned them.

It took a moment to get over the initial shock of Mustang snapping his fingers, and watching his hard work go up in smoke and fall to the desk, nothing but ashes. When he did, his blood boiled with rage. "What the Hell was that for, bastard?" He yelled, slamming his hands on the table.

"Two reasons." Mustang said, a tone in his voice that Edward couldn't identify. "First of all, it's messy."

"Who gives a damn?" Ed shouted. "I slaved over that-"

"I'm not finished yet." Mustang snapped, and Edward fell silent. "Firstly because it's messy, and secondly, I asked for a full, detailed report on what happened. This is neither."

"What do you mean, it's neither?" Edward yelled.

"I mean, this is not detailed in the slightest. A ten year old could have written a better report than this. You only vaguely mention things, and I'm not an idiot, Fullmetal, I see the gaps. It's as clear as day that there are things that should be in that report that aren't."

Edward froze in the act of stepping around the desk to punch the bastard's face. "H-how so?" He asked cautiously. Surely the Colonel could not have worked it all out from a glance, could he? Surely he couldn't have figured out the truth so quickly...

"There are gaps. Just like in the documents we recovered at the scene. Things are missing. You claim that nothing happened down there, apart from your rape, but-"

"Don't!" Edward shouted, surprising both Mustang and himself.

"Don't what, Edward?" Mustang shouted back.

"Don't you dare try to presume what happened to me down there! Don't you dare! You have no idea what you're talking about! You don't understand ANYTHING! You say you know what's missing from that Goddamn report, which I spent hours on by the way, so why don't you tell me! Because I'd sure like to know, what you think is so Goddamn important! And how dare you talk about my rape like it was nothing! How dare you! I may not be old yet enough to fully understand everything that that is, but I know it's something I never want to go through again, because it hurt!

"So you tell me, Colonel, you tell me what you think is missing from that report!" When Edward was finished, he was breathing heavily, and sweat was pooling from his forehead. His fists were clenched into tight balls, and his palms were bleeding. It took everything he had not to change into the wolf inside of him, and he was shaking with the effort. He looked down at his hands, and realized that if Roy did, he was see that Ed's nails were too long. Far too long. Before that could happen, Ed pulled back the claws that he hadn't even realized he had failed to restrain.

His head was swimming, his blood boiling, and all he wanted to do was allow the wolf to take over so he could tear Mustang's throat out of his neck. But he couldn't let that happen. Even if he did allow the change to slip through without attacking Mustang, would would his commanding officer think of him? Would he be disgusted, repulsed? Would he hate him? Would he dishonourably discharge him from the military, and send him to live in another lab, where he would be dissected by more scientists in white coats, so that they could figure out exactly what made him tick? Of course he would. Because he was Mustang. Because he was Mustang and all Mustang cared about was being promoted, and if handing in a fully functional chimera wasn't enough to get a promotion then nothing ever would be. Because he was Edward, the failure, the freak, the genius kid who could never seem to stay out of trouble. Because Mustang was Mustang and Edward was Edward. That was the reason.

There was no doubt anywhere in Ed's mind that all of these things would happen if he slipped up, and so he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath and suppress the urge to rip Mustang's head off.

He was finding, since he had become this beast, this animal, that he was feeling so much more violent, so much more often. Sure, he'd always had a fairly violent personality, but it was beyond rediculous how often now he had the urge to destroy something, to rip it apart, to make it hurt, the way he was hurting.

And he hated himself all the more for it.

He wished he could turn back time, so that he never left the Hotel that morning, so that he never got himself kidnapped, so that he never had other people's limbs stuck on him, so that he never was turned into this thing. But he couldn't, and now he just had to live with it.

"You think I don't know anything, do you?" Mustang said at last. His voice was dangerously low, dangerously cold, and it made Edward cold to the core. "You think I know nothing about anything, is that it? Well, how about you enlighten me then, seeing as you are apparently all knowing. Tell me, what don't I know?"

Edward was about to scream at him (you don't know what it's like to be turned into a monster!), when he realized he was walking into a trap. That's what Mustang was expecting him to scream, he knew it. Mustang was baiting him, trying to make him say what he couldn't say. But he wouldn't fall for it. He wouldn't. He couldn't. "You don't know." He said. "You don't know what it's like to be ripped from the streets, to be taken away from everything for weeks, to be chained and blindfolded, to have other people's limbs Transmuted onto your body! You don't know what it's like to be raped on a daily basis, so they're stupid experiments will work! You don't know what it's like to be afraid!"

"You think I don't know what it's like to be afraid?" Mustang asked, standing up from his chair and towering over the young alchemist, so that all he could see was his superior's black, black eyes, those bottomless, merciless pits for eyes, staring down at him. "You think I don't know what that's like? I was in a war, Edward, a war! I can assure you, I know how it feels to be terrified, to be afraid that every step you take, every breath you breathe, will be the last one. I know what it's like to be disgusted with yourself and those around you for the things you're doing, the things they're doing, for everything that's happening, I know how it feels!"

For a few moments, neither of them said anything else, and then Mustang blinked, and at once the rage was gone, replaced by intense curiosity. "Did you day 'experiments'?" He asked.

Edward's heart stopped.

"Wh-what?" He whispered.

"Did you say 'experiments'?" Mustang repeated. "Because I'm certain you did."

"N-no. I don't know what you're t-talking about." Edward choked out, his entire body trembling.

"Don't lie to me, Fullmetal." Mustang said, his eyebrows furrowing, his black eyes terrifying. "I heard you say it. You said 'experiments'. What experiments?"

"I have to go!" Edward squeaked, and turned on his heel to run. He yelped as Mustang's fist clenched around his shirt and he was lifted into the air, his legs dangling beneath him. He looked at the older man's face and saw barely contained rage there, and he gulped. Suddenly he felt like he couldn't breathe, like he was suffocating, like the building itself was taking away all the oxygen. He began to thrash pitifully, trying to escape, but Mustang's grip was like iron. "Let me go!"

"Not before you tell me what you meant by 'experiments'!" Mustang growled.

"Put me down!" Edward cried.

"Fine!" He yelled, and he threw Edward into the wall beside them. Ed hit it hard, his back taking the full brunt of it, and fell to the floor, pain lancing up and down his spine. He lay sprawled on the floor, not trusting his shaking legs to stand. He moaned in pain and tried to move away from his Commanding Officer, who was stalking towards him, his eyes blazing. The man crouched down beside Ed, and raised one hand. Edward flinched as it came down to strike his face, and the impact made his cheek sting. "Are you going to tell me what you're hiding?" Mustang whispered.

"I'm not hiding anything!" Edward insisted, sitting up, his aching back against the wall.

Mustang slapped his face again, and Ed whimpered as tears came to his eyes. "You're lying." He said.

"I'm not!" Ed said, raising his voice. Mustang clenched his right fist and backhanded his face with it, and Edward toppled over sideways, pain flaring up beside his right eye. And then he began to laugh. "That's gonna bruise, you know!" He laughed. "They're all gonna know you hit me. Hughes and Hawkeye and Havoc and Breda and Falman and Fuery, they're all gonna know!"

"No they won't." Mustang said, a small smile coming to his face.

"And why the Hell not?"

"Because I didn't hit you. You tripped on the rug and fell face-first onto my desk. That's how that bruise got there, isn't it, Ed?" He said.

"Are you on drugs?" Edward asked, in his foolish young innocence. "Do you not realize that you hit me? Do you have amnesia?"

And then Mustang began to laugh. "Edward, Edward, Edward, are you not familiar with the concept of blackmail?" He asked.

"Of course I...oh." Edward stopped himself, realizing his stupid-ness and blushing in embarrassment at not understanding right away.

"You really are a naive child, aren't you, Fullmetal?" Mustang teased.

"Shut up, Colonel Bastard!" Ed snapped. Roy raised his fist, and was just starting to bring it down onto Ed's face again when they both heard voices just outside the office. Three quick raps on the door, and Lieutenant Hawkeye's voice rang out, asking permission to enter.

"One moment, Lieutenant." Mustang called, his voice back to his usual, cocky tone. "Remember, Ed," he whispered darkly, "You tripped on the carpet and hit your head, got it?"

"Why should I?" Edward hissed.

"Because I am you're Commanding Officer, and I am ordering you to. If you don't, you will be discharged from the military, got it?" Mustang threatened, and Edward gulped. As much as he hated Mustang right now, as much as he wanted to change into his wolf form and tear the man limb from limb, he couldn't afford to lose his military rank. If he did, he would lose access to all the research materials he needed, and then how would he get his brother's body back? Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "Good boy." Mustang said, standing up. He went back to his desk and sat down, and when Edward made no indication of moving, the man glared at him, and Edward got the hint. He dragged himself to his feet, and his head swam when he stumbled dizzily to the couch. He dropped onto it, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. A moment later, Mustang called for the Lieutenant to come in.

"Oh, hello, Edward." She said cheerfully. "Isn't it a little early for you to be in yet?"

"I thought I might as well hand in my stupid report and get it over with." He said, not opening his eyes.

"Okay then, good for you." A pause. "Where is it?"

"I've already read it and filed it away for further reference, Lieutenant." Mustang said, and Hawkeye was apparently satisfied with the answer.

Ed heard her footsteps pass him and head toward the Colonel's desk, and they began to talk about documents or something, and Edward didn't bother to listen. His head was too busy racing around in circles, trying to comprehend what had just happened to him. He had never liked the Colonel all that much, and he'd never gotten along with him either, but they'd never fought like this before. The Colonel had never treated him like this before. He'd never beaten him or threatened him in such a brutal and violent manner before. Edward's twelve-year-old brain struggled to comprehend what the reason for it all had been, and why the Colonel was suddenly living up to Ed's name for him so completely. Edward just didn't understand what he'd done to piss him off quite so much. Surely it wasn't all about the missing information, was it?

Had Edward said something offensive to him? He couldn't remember, but it was a possibility.

He realized that he was being addressed, and quickly looked up to see Hawkeye frowning over him. "Edward, what happened to your face?" She asked, her voice filled with concern. Edward felt slightly bad as he relayed the Colonel's lie over to her, but he suppressed it, making sure his face did not give her any reason to doubt the story. He wasn't sure if she bought it, but she didn't question his words, instead she went over to her desk and pulled out some papers, settled into her chair, and began to read them.

"Fullmetal." Mustang said.

"Yeah?" Edward groaned.

"I want another report by tomorrow." He said. "For now, you're dismissed. Go back to Hughes' and get some rest. You look terrible." The unspoken threat lingered in the air, and Edward waited a few moments to clear his aching head before grumbling his affirmative and standing up from the couch. The room swayed a little as he did so, but, pushing through the pounding in his head, he headed for the door. "And Fullmetal." Mustang called when he was just about to open the door. Ed looked over his shoulder at the man, and he continued. "Make sure it's neat this time."

"Whatever." Edward mumbled, waving his hand goodbye and leaving.

As he walked through Central Command, he noticed a lot of people looking oddly at him. They were snickering and mumbling things under their breaths to their companions, and Edward heard snippets of what they were saying. 'Child'. 'Freak'. 'Pipsqueak'. Edward was too tired and his head hurt too much for him to rant the way he normally would have when people made fun of his height, but he sent the offenders furious death-stares that managed to shut them all up. When he passed one man, his rank said Brigadier General, who was flanked by a First Lieutenant and a Lieutenant Colonel, Edward heard the man muttering the word 'whore' under his breath. Ed frowned. He didn't know what a 'whore' was, but it sounded far from flattering. And the way the two Lieutenants nodded and glanced at him, Edward knew he was right about it. He passed a few more people who said the same word about him, though none of it to his face. He was seriously concerned now about what the word meant, seeing as how everyone seemed to think he fit the description.

He was glad to finally be out of H.Q, roughly ten minutes of walking later, and to be out in the fresh morning air. It was a nice day, the middle of spring, and all the flowers were in full bloom. Edward, who, due to his auto-mail, was very fussy about weather being too hot or too cold, thought the temperature was perfect. It didn't aggravate his metal limbs, and it felt nice on his skin.

It took Ed a moment or two to remember that he didn't actually have metal limbs any more, and he felt a pang of nostalgia. Never in his life would he have thought he would actually miss his auto-mail, but send him to Hell if he didn't. Were these new limbs he carried with him now his own, he would have been overjoyed to lose the metal monstrosities. As it was, these limbs were foreign to him, slightly paler than the rest of his body, and he hated the sight of them. He hid them now the way he used to hide his auto-mail; under his black jacket and blaring red coat, topped with a pair of white gloves. He was still waiting for the day the military would force him to wear official uniform, but he was pretty certain that wouldn't happen for a while. It was one thing to have a child in the military, it was something else entirely to have that child wear the uniform that would tell all random passers by of that fact.

Instead of going to the Hughes' house, he first went to a small cafe, and, with the limited amount of money he possessed, bought a vanilla thick-shake and a date scone, and took his small brunch to the nearby park. He sipped at the heavenly drink on one of the mildly uncomfortable wooden benches the park had to offer, nibbling at his scone every now and then. His eyes were closed, and he listened to the sounds around him. He had never been one for sentiment, but after being chained up underground for a month and a half, with nothing but thin air and artificial lights, the only noises to be heard the screaming of another experiment or, even more often, the screaming of yourself, the sounds of the outside world were like music to the young alchemist's ears. He could hear the birds chirping as they flew around from here to there, the sounds of young children playing in the grass or on the playground, the feel of the light breeze tickling his face and his hair. He could hear the sounds of motor-vehicles, or, the more popular word, cars, driving along the cobblestone roads, the rumble of the engines, the occasional honking of horns. He could hear people chatting to one another, and, if he listened carefully, he could even hear the sound of people's footsteps as they passed him by.

Oh, it was so wonderful to be able to hear these simple, everyday things.

Ed threw the cup in one of the nearby trashcans when he finished his drink, and, gobbling down the last of the yummy scone, he stood up, stretched, and headed back to the Hughes' place. While he was walking through the streets, he couldn't help but feel like people were whispering about him, staring at him, judging him. He knew he was just being paranoid, but still, he knew what they would think, if they knew what he really was. Monster. Freak. Abomination. The wolf within him growled silently, and Edward felt the strong and confusing desire to change, to show these people what he really was. Let them think what they thought. It was nothing but the truth, after all, and he was strong, he could take it. So what if they hated him, so what if they thought he was a monster?

But I am one.

He tried to push the unwanted thought back, but the more he tried, the more it fought furiously to stay in his head. It was right, of course. He was everything they would think. He was a monster. He was a freak, he was an abomination of nature, he should never have been created. He wasn't a human being, he was a thing made in a lab. He didn't deserve to live, being what he was. He knew the right thing to do would be to let his claws extend and then tear out his own throat. It would be simple, easy. Sure, it might hurt for a moment or two, but only a moment. He would be dead within the span of a few seconds, and then the world would be safer. So much safer. The world would always be just that little bit safer - one monster down. But he was too much of a coward. He couldn't do what was right for the world because he was a naive child who was afraid to die, afraid to meet what lay beyond the Gate. Part of the reason was also because he had a debt to pay. He had to get Alphonse, his little brother, his little, eleven year old brother, who was stuck with a suit of armor as a body, his flesh and blood back. Had to return his body to him, so that he could resume a normal life. That was part of the reason he couldn't end it all, here and now, but it was mostly because he was too much of a coward.

Kicking a pebble away from his toe, he realized that he had arrived at his destination, and he went inside the building. Everyone called it the Hughes' house, but it was actually an apartment, on the fifth floor of one of Central's biggest apartment complexes. It took him ages to walk up all five flights of stairs -he kept missing the elevator- but when he finally arrived at their door, it occurred to him that he'd forgotten to ask them for a key. He could have very easily opened the door with alchemy, but he figured that could be considered rude. Instead he knocked, and waited. After a few moments Gracia opened the door for him, and she smiled. "Back already, Ed?" She asked him.

"Yeah." He said. She was just about to open her mouth again, but Edward beat her to it. "Before you ask, I slipped on the rug in Mustang's office this morning and fell onto his desk." The lie came easier this time, but he still felt guilty all the same.

"Oh, okay." She said. "Would you like an ice-pack? It'll help the swelling."

"Actually I'm fine." He politely declined. "But thank you anyway." As they walked into the apartment and Gracia shut and locked the door behind her, his gaze swept it swiftly before turning back around. "Al still hasn't arrived?" He asked, his heart falling a little. He'd hoped that, bu=y now, his brother would have arrived in Central. He had called him a few days ago, and Al knew where he was staying, so why was he taking so long? Edward was starting to seriously worry about his brother. When he had called him, he'd been in Resembool, with Granny and Winry. It shouldn't have taken him four days to get from there to here.

Gracia shook her head sadly. "No, I'm sorry Ed, but he hasn't arrived. He did call though, about an hour ago. He said he's stuck in Resembool for a while. There was a train accident the day before he was due to leave and now the railway's all messed up. Not only that, but the train is completely busted. He's gonna be stuck there for a while longer."

"How...how much longer?" Ed asked timidly. He hadn't seen his brother in so long, and he desperately missed him.

"At least a month, Ed. Depending on how long it takes to fix the tracks, and to either fix the train or have a new one brought in, it's looking like it might be a maybe two months. At the very least, a month and a half."

A month and a half! His brain screamed at him. A month and a half of pain, of experiments, of blood! A month and a half, Edward! A month and a half!

Shivering, he forced the sudden...whatever it was...to the back of his head, and simply said, "Oh."

"I'm sorry, Edward."

"No, that's okay, it's not your fault." He said quickly, making sure she did not any way blame herself for anything.

"Would you like something to eat, Edward? I was just about to cook lunch." Gracia asked.

"No, it's okay, Mrs. Hughes, I had something to eat earlier." He said.

"Are you sure?" She poked his shoulder with one finger, smiling down at him. "I was going to cook steak. I know you love steak."

Edward could not say no to steak.

Later that night, when Mr. Hughes finally came home from work, he asked Edward about the bruise on his face, and Edward had repeated the lie to him as well. He had also asked what he was doing writing another report. "Mustang wanted another one." He said.

"How come?" Hughes asked curiously.

"The last one was too messy." Ed said without thinking.

"Seriously? That's it?"

"Yup." Ed said, trying to end the conversation.

"You'd think he could give you a break after everything that's happened." The man muttered. Edward chose to pretend he hadn't heard, to avoid any further inquiries. At dinner, which was absolutely delicious (Gracia truly was an excellent cook!), Hughes made idle chatter with his wife and with Ed, but there was no serious discussion. Edward liked it. He was so used to always talking with his brother about alchemy and the stone and their bodies, it was nice to have a change of pace for once. After everyone had eaten their fill, Gracia went to put little Elicia to bed and Edward and Hughes sat in the lounge room, taking comfort in the roaring fire. It flickered and cast shadows upon them both, and Edward felt reluctant to disturb the peace. However...

"Mr. Hughes?" He asked tentatively.

"Please, just call me Maes." Hughes said.

"O-Okay. Maes?"

"Yeah?"

"What's a whore?" He asked quickly.

"Why?" He questioned.

"It...it's just that..." Edward looked down at his hands, a slight blush rising in his cheeks. He didn't know what the word meant, but the tone of Maes' voice when he'd asked why, coupled with the embarrassment of not knowing the meaning of a word, made him feel uncomfortable. "Some of the people...at H.Q, I heard them whispering things about me today, and I heard a lot of them call me a...a whore. But I don't know what it means."

Ed looked up to see Hughes' green eyes blazing with fury. He flinched and scooted over across the couch, some small part of him afraid that the man would hit him, even though the rational part of him knew that he was far too kind to hit him. "Edward." The man said stiffly. "Who are these people?"

"Umm, I don't know. There were a lot and I don't remember what any of them looked like." He replied nervously.

"Ed, a whore is someone, generally a woman, who sells her body to others for money." Hughes said, his voice shaking slightly.

"Sells their body? What do you mean?"

"How do I put this in a way you'll understand?" The man pondered. "Well, what I mean is...by sell their bodies, I mean...they have sex with strangers, but the strangers have to pay them. Do you understand?" He asked gently.

"I...I think so..." Edward said slowly. "But, why would anyone think that I was...that I did that?" Hughes pressed his lips together for a moment, only a moment, but it was enough to make Edward think he might have been lying when he said;

"I don't know, Ed. I don't know."

Edward didn't press for further information, surprising both himself and Hughes. Ed decided that if Hughes had something more to tell him, he would.

"Come here, Ed." Maes said, and Edward was shocked when the man spread his arms out the way he did when he wanted his daughter to give him a hug. After a moment of deliberation, he scooted closer to the man, and Maes wrapped his arms around him. It felt nice. No one had ever really hugged him like this, not since his mum had died, and he wasn't used to the feeling. Sure, since he had first come here, Hughes had been the one to wake him from his nightmares each night, and when he did, he would hold Ed in his arms and whisper to him that he was alright, but Ed, being Ed, had figured that Hughes had been doing it because it was the only way to help Edward calm down. This was different, there was no reason for him to have to hug Ed, and that confused the boy. Why was Hughes cuddling him? This wasn't a nightmare...so...why? Despite not understanding, Edward made no move to end the comforting gesture. It felt good to have someone hold him this way, and it made him feel...safe...like, as long as he was in the man's arms, he could not be hurt. He snuggled his head into the man's chest and Hughes rested his chin on top of Ed's head.

"Edward, you are not a whore, okay?" Maes said. "No matter what anyone says, you are not a whore."

I believe you. Edward thought, before drifting off into sleep.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one will ever change this animal I have become  
> Help me believe it's not the real me  
> Somebody help me tame this animal I have become  
> Help me believe it's not the real me  
> Somebody help me tame this animal
> 
> ~Animal I Have Become (Three Days Grace)

"No! No, get off of me!" Edward screamed. The man on top of him only laughed and continued to fondle him, and Edward could only let him. His legs felt like jelly, and his arms were chained above his head. His body was weak from pain and hunger, and he felt sick to his stomach. The worst part was he couldn't even see who was hurting him because of the Goddamn blindfold, but he wasn't even sure if he would feel better or worse if it was removed. "Get off me!"

His pleas were as useless as his arms and his legs, and agony shot though him as the man drove himself into him, and began to thrust, holding Edward's hips tightly as he did so. Edward bit back a scream and tried to put his mind somewhere else - anywhere else. There was only pain here, and he did not want to continue experiencing it. He felt dirty, used, but despite everything, he didn't really understand this pain. He didn't know what it meant. Or why it hurt; he just knew that it did. So badly. And it left him shaking and drained.

"Edward..." The man said, and he tried so hard to ignore him.

"Ed." He squinted his eyes behind his blindfold and thrashed around, trying fruitlessly to dislodge the man.

"Edward!"

Edward jumped forward and tired to remember where he was. He was in a dark room. He was sitting on a bed, and sweat was dripping down his forehead. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and his chest was heaving, trying to take in the necessary oxygen. He realized there was someone kneeling beside his bed, and, fearfully, he looked to see who it was. It was a man, with black hair and glasses, and Edward realized it was just Hughes. Despite the new-found knowledge that he was safe, and despite remembering where he was (Mr. Hughes' house), he still could not shake off the feeling of terror his dream had instilled in him. Could still feel the ghost of the man's hands running along his body. He stifled a sob, and Maes reached out and pulled him into hug. Still shaking, Edward leaned into it. It had been over a week since he had been rescued, but still the nightmares haunted him. He couldn't help but feel like he was being weak, and he tried to think happy thoughts before he went to sleep, but still he could not dream peacefully.

It did not help, he thought, that Mustang kept pressing him to give all the details of what had happened to him while he'd been missing. He could see where the man was coming from, the information would probably help them immensely with the case, but he just could not do it. He could not let anyone...anyone, find out what he had become. He had no choice but to lie to them all, because what would they think of him if they knew? It had only been a week but still the constant hiding, the constant guarding of everything he said, was starting to take it's toll on him. He felt distanced from everyone -everyone except Mr. Hughes, that is - and he felt that he didn't deserve their sympathy. Why couldn't Mustang just leave him alone, though? He had all of the files for every other experiment except him; why couldn't he just go off of those? Why did he have to torment Ed?

A brief flash of memory came to him.

It was yesterday. Mustang had asked him to stay late, after everyone went home, so he could talk to him privately. Edward had tried to decline, but Hawkeye had told him that it would be better if he stayed. If he didn't, the Colonel would just keep nagging him, and it was easier to just get it over and done with. He figured she was right, and, instead of going home (he had already come to think of the Hughes' place as home; it was the only place he felt truly safe), he had stayed late. Until he was certain that the rest of the building had been emptied, Mustang had pretended to be civil. But as soon as the last car drove away, all the false niceties had gone away. He had demanded that Edward tell him his secret, and when Edward had refused, Mustang had grabbed his hair and slammed his head into the floor.

Just the memory made his head tingle, and he buried his head into Maes' shirt. Maes continued to whisper to him that he was safe, that everything was all right, but Edward found he couldn't believe the man. Not anymore. There was something seriously off about Mustang's behavior, and he had the sinking feeling that it wasn't going to end.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Maes held Edward in his arms after waking him up from yet another nightmare. It was three o'clock in the morning, which was better. Maes had gotten a few hours of extra sleep (normally it was something like one or two). For the first few days of Edward's stay, his nightmares appeared to be getting a little better. But then Monday night they came back full force. Hughes suspected it was because of the assholes that were calling him a whore. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he had his suspicions.

His attention was drawn back to the shaking child in his arms, and he felt incredibly sad. This poor child had been through so much. As a father, it pained him to see any child in pain, but he felt an extra special bout of sympathy for this one, for all that he had been forced to endure in his short life. His father had abandoned him when he was just a toddler, and then, soon after, his mother had died. The poor kid had been so alone, without any kind of guidance, that he had tried to bring his late mother back from the grave. He had failed terribly, and it had cost him his left leg and his brother's body. In order to keep his little brother's soul grounded to Earth, he had bound it to a suit of armor in exchange for his right arm. Maes Hughes did not know anything about alchemy, but he knew that what the brothers had attempted was highly taboo, and he had taken it upon himself to help the boys keep their secret hidden from those who would surely punish them for their mistake.

He thought of Edward now as a son, especially since he had come to stay with them, and was more than happy to help him out. He just wished he knew how to get these nightmares to stop.

"Easy Ed." He cooed. "It's okay, it was just a nightmare. You're safe now. It's okay."

"Th-thanks Hughes." Edward said shakily. "Y-you've done so much for me and I...I've done nothing to earn it."

"What the Hell are you talking about Ed?" Maes asked.

"E-Equivalent Exchange. You've helped me so much. You rescued me, and you let me stay here in your house, and when I wake you up with my pathetic screaming you...you don't complain, you just...I don't deserve your kindness."

"Oh Ed." Maes said softly, shaking his head. "You do. And you don't have to earn kindness from me. A father doesn't demand that stuff from his son. It's a father's job to rescue their kids, and give them a home and wake them up and comfort them from their nightmares. It's not something you need to earn."

"I don't understand. Everything has to be balanced. And so far I've done nothing to balance it all." Edward insisted.

"Edward." Maes said, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders and pushing him back, looking him in the eye. "Not everything has to follow the laws of alchemy. I consider you a son, and no matter what happens that fact will not change."

"You...you consider me your son?" Edward asked, looking stunned. "But...why?"

"There doesn't have to be a reason, Edward."

"Everything has a reason..." Edward murmured, looking down. Maes realized that this probably wasn't one of the things he could argue about with Edward Elric, because he was an alchemist, and alchemists believed that everything had a rational explanation. So he tried again.

"Call it a father's instinct, if you want."

That Edward seemed to accept.

Pleased that he seemed to have finally gotten through to the silly child before him, he pulled him into another hug. Slowly, nervously, Edward wrapped his arms around Maes' waist, and Maes smiled. When Edward had first woken up from that nightmare last Thursday, the first night he had been here, and Maes had hugged him, he'd been stiff and tense, unsure what to do. Unfamiliar with such intimate contact. But over the course of the next week, he seemed to have gotten used to it, and relaxed. But this was the first time he'd actually hugged Maes back, and Maes felt that that was a huge accomplishment for the very distanced child. And Maes had to admit that he was quite proud, it had to have been difficult for Ed. The small child's hands stopped at the small of Maes' back, and after a moment, the older man became aware of a stinging sensation there. It gradually became more annoying, and then, in one sudden go, it became a flash of hot pain. In ten different spots. White spots flashed in Maes' eyes as he felt small droplets of blood trickle down his skin, and he went stiff. Only a few seconds had passed and suddenly Edward wasn't in his arms. He was on the other side of the bed. His hands were clenched and the tips of his fingers had spatters of blood on them. Maes' investigative mind worked to find a rational answer to his question: what was that? Doing a double take of Ed's hands, he realized that he had felt ten little bursts of pain, and each of Ed's ten fingers were stained with blood. Perhaps Ed had just accidentally dug his nails into him? That was a perfectly logical conclusion, except for one little problem.

Edward didn't have long nails.

At all.

"Edward, are you okay?" Maes asked the trembling boy. "What happened?"

"I-I'm sorry!" The boy said quietly, his fists shaking. He kept saying it, over and over again, but Maes couldn't figure out why.

"Why are you sorry, Ed?" He asked gently.

"I hurt you...I didn't mean it...I'm sorry." Ed whispered.

"But Edward, what happened?"

"I didn't mean it..." Edward kept going, as if Maes had said nothing. "I didn't mean to hurt you...I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"Edward, listen to me, it's okay. I'm not hurt," He lied, "Just please talk to me. What's happening.

"I...I hurt you...I hurt you...What the Hell is wrong with me?!" He cried, putting his head in his hands. Maes crawled over the bed and put a hand on the young alchemist's shoulder, and pretended he didn't notice when he flinched at the contact.

"Edward, there's nothing wrong with you." He said.

"Yes there is!" Ed said through his hands. "I hurt you and you were just trying to help and I didn't even realize they were out and..." The boy trailed off, and Maes frowned. What were out?

"Didn't realize what were out, Ed?" He asked gently.

"Nothing...I..." The boy stuttered, apparently completely at a loss for what to say. Maes could practically feel his brain scrambling around for words. "I can't tell you." He said at last.

"Okay, Ed. I understand. If you don't want to tell me, that's all right. I won't pressure you to do something you're uncomfortable with." He assured him. Edward slowly lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at the older man, and whispered:

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Thank you, Maes." He said. "Really."

"Don't worry about it." He pulled Ed in for a brief hug before getting off of the bed and walking to the door. "Just remember Ed, if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm right here. You can trust me. Well, goodnight, sweet dreams, Ed." Edward nodded to him and Maes left the room and shut the door. Now that he was out of Ed's sight, he was able to take a look at his back. He went to the bathroom and slipped off his shirt, and turned around and looked in the mirror. Just as he thought, there were ten little puncture marks in the small of his back. They weren't very deep, just little pin-pricks, really, but still, there was the tiniest amount of blood dribbling from each one. Grabbing a tissue from the counter, he wiped it off, and then ran his fingers over the holes. It stung a little bit when he did, but otherwise there was nothing actually serious. All the same, he had to wonder what could have made them.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Edward hated himself.

What was wrong with him? Hughes had just been giving him a motherfucking hug for God's sake, and then his stupid wolf claws had extended without him even REALIZING IT and he had hurt Maes! And then the man had forgiven him, and that just made it so much worse. He would have preferred it if he had been yelled at, screamed at, hit, to the anxious worry that Maes had instead given him. Instead of worrying about himself, Maes had tried to help Ed, and Edward hated that, because that's what he would have done, had their roles been reversed. And then the guy had the gall to not even force Ed to tell him what had happened! He had been understanding and kind, so unlike Mustang. If it had been Mustang instead of Hughes, Ed wouldn't be sitting here right now, hating himself. He would be on the floor, having punches thrown at his miserable face. That would have been better than this. At least then he wouldn't have the time to hate himself! At least, not until later, that is...

Why hadn't he even realized that the claws were coming out, though? Shouldn't he have felt them? Shouldn't he have known?

This is getting way out of hand. He thought. If I don't even know what I'm doing, then how am I supposed to keep it hidden? Instead of brooding, he decided to put his alchemist's brain to good use, and try to figure out why he was losing control of himself. After a minute or so of deliberation, he decided it must have been the stress. It made sense. After everything he'd been through, he hadn't been able to get a good night of sleep for...God, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had one, now. Besides that, there was all the reports he had to keep writing, because of Mustang's persistence and insistence on finding out what his secret was. Every single one he wrote got burned by Mustang's flame alchemy, and every time he would have another one due the next morning, and so on and so on. It was a vicious, exhausting cycle the left Edward feeling drained. And that was on a good day, when other people were in the office. When it was just the two of them...there were the beatings.

After the first time, Mustang was being a lot more careful. Being an alchemist, he knew almost everything there was to know about the human body, and he'd taken to hitting Ed where the bruises wouldn't show. And where it would hurt the most. Ed was really beginning to hate the man.

But the most stressful thing was the hiding itself. He had to constantly watch what he was saying, watch how he acted, but, most of all, he had to watch himself. Had to make sure that his feet were the right size, that there were no claws tipping his fingers, that there were no ears on his head and that there was no fur on his skin. It was extremely taxing.

Maybe it would be easier...if he told someone. It would probably take away the stress some fourfold, and he could relax a little more, maybe even sleep better. The first person that came to his mind was Mustang, but he quickly threw that idea back into the trashcan were it belonged. Telling Mustang would be the stupidest thing he could possibly do. Sure, it might get rid of the beatings, and maybe even the constant report-writing, but in the end it would not be worth it. Mustang would send him off to a lab somewhere to earn promotion points, and how the Hell was Edward supposed to get Al his body back stuck in a lab?

Alphonse was his next thought...but no, he couldn't do that either. For one thing, it would only make his brother worry more. He would be constantly asking him if he was okay, if he needed to talk, if the wolf was trying to resurface, and, all in all, it would be too much stress on the younger Elric. But secondly, and, most importantly, what if his brother started hating him? What if Al thought that the older sibling he looked up to was nothing but a filthy, low life animal? It was one thing for that statement to be true, it was another thing entirely to have the person you loved most in the world tell you so themselves. Alphonse would be disgusted with him, and Edward could not stand it if that happened. He racked his brain, trying to think of someone who would listen to him and accept him for what he was and not become deterred by it.

I consider you a son, and no matter what happens that fact will not change.

The words flowed into his head, and Edward froze in the act of crawling back into his bed.

If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm right here.

Hughes.

He could tell Hughes.

Tears came to his eyes, and so did the fear. What if, despite what Maes had said, learning about what Edward had become really did change the way he felt about Ed? What if he was repulsed? Disgusted? What if he kicked Edward out of the apartment? What if he told Mustang, and then the whole thing would just blow up and Ed would be sent away as a test subject and - No. Edward shook his head to clear it, and made himself rationalize this. Maes Hughes was not the kind of man who would do that to him. He was also not the type of man to lie, either. If he said nothing would ever change how he felt towards Edward, then nothing ever would, no matter how grotesque.

You can trust me.

Yes, yes, Edward could trust him.

Making his decision before he could chicken out, Edward slid off of the bed and shuffled over to the set of drawers beside his bed. Gracia had said to him that he could feel free to unpack his suitcase in there, so that he might feel more at home (and, while he had refrained from doing so the first two nights, he had to admit that since he had, it had felt homier around here). He opened the top drawer and pushed aside all the clothes, neatly folded, to reveal the little stack of papers hidden underneath. Before he could hesitate (and if he hesitated, he would begin to doubt himself, and if he did that...), he grabbed the papers in his hand and pulled them out, shutting the drawer closed and heading to the door.

As he pulled open the door, Maes walked passed him. "Oh, Ed, what's up?" He asked cheerfully. Edward tried to ignore the fact that he was now wearing a different shirt. Hanging his head, his bangs shielding his eyes, Edward thrust the papers out toward Hughes.

"What's this, Ed?" Maes asked.

"The missing documents."


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you can't hear me cry
> 
> See my dreams all die  
> From where you're standing  
> On your own.  
> It's so quiet here  
> And I feel so cold  
> This house no longer  
> Feels like home.
> 
> ~So Cold (Ben Cocks)

Riza waited impatiently inside the elevator, tapping her foot. The Colonel had called her in this morning for a 'Code Blue' emergency. Over the years, since she had started working under his command, she had memorized all of his codes, systems and emergency (and non emergency) protocols, so the second she had heard his voice say it over the phone she knew immediately there was something bad happening that he didn't want anyone else to know about. It was only six in the morning, and she hadn't encountered anyone else inside Central H.Q, but that was good. It meant there was no one to hold her up in her hurry. She gasped in exasperation when the elevator finally 'tinged', and she stepped out quickly. She could not afford to be slow this morning. Code Blue meant that Mustang had discovered some kind of corruption within the military. She knew that in a powerful hierarchy such as the Amestrian Military there would always be corruption, but Code Blue meant that that corruption had been taken to the next level.

Quickening her pace, she entered the Colonel's office without knocking and went straight to his desk. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, staring furiously at a photograph. His eyes were so narrow they were barely slits, and he jumped in his seat when he realized she was there. "You called Code Blue sir?" She stated.

"Yeah, look at this photo Lieutenant." He said, handing it to her. She took it in her hand and looked at it, frowning. It was one of the photographs from the documents that had been recovered in the basement where Edward had been found, little over a week ago. It was one of the many pictures depicting Ed's rape, and Hawkeye swallowed back bile. She had had to look at all of these already, in order to assist with Ed's case. She didn't want to look at it again.

"What about it, sir?" She asked after a moment, not understanding what she was supposed to be looking at.

"In the top left corner. You can barely see it, but if you look closely..." He trailed off, letting her find it for herself.

She did as he said. The photo had been taken from a distance. In the very center, you could see Edward chained to the wall, arms raised above and beside his head. His eyes had been blindfolded with black cloth, and his bangs hung beside his face. You could see tear tracks staining his cheeks. On top of him you could see a man with brown hair cropped short, with wide shoulders and muscular arms. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt that clung tightly to his big frame, and his was straddling Edward's hips. Around them was mostly blurry black, but, with a stab of shock, she saw blue in the corner Mustang had asked her to look. It was barely noticeable if you didn't know what you were looking for, but once she found it, it all became so much clearer. The blue blob became more rectangular, and that rectangle became a body shape, and then that body shape became military uniform. "Oh my God..." She whispered, the hand not holding the photo moving absently to cover her mouth in horror.

"Yeah, the military was involved in this, somehow." Mustang said, his voice sounding somewhat hollow. "It's too blurry to see what rank the soldier is, but we now definitely know that someone in our military took part in all this."

"And I'll bet right arm that if we take a closer look at all the other photos, this won't be the only one we find." She added.

"Exactly." Mustang said. "And as shocking as this revelation is, at least now we have something to go on other than useless information. This past week all we've been doing is running around in circles."

"You're right, now we have something definitive to actually look for."

"And if I could just figure out what Elric's hiding, we'd have even more." Mustang muttered under his breath, and it took a few seconds for Hawkeye to realize that those words, in that order, had actually just come out of his mouth.

"Sir?" She asked, confused.

"Yeah?"

"What do you mean?"

"Huh?"

"What you just said. About Ed hiding something. Elaborate."

"Think about it Hawkeye." Mustang said. "Every single document we found indicated that within the time span of a month, all the prisoners were turned into successful chimeras of various kinds. Edward was there for over a month and a half, and he wasn't changed? I don't believe him."

"But sir, remember what Ed said. Before they could begin the process, they had to Transmute new limbs onto Ed's body to make it easier. It would have been difficult just procuring those limbs, then the surgery to remove Ed's auto-mail ports, and then actually put the arm and the leg onto him." Hawkeye argued.

"You see, I've been doing a bit of private research on that, and I am certain it would not have taken any longer than a week. There was a dead body found buried around the site, missing the right arm and left leg, and the boy was Ed's height and age, according to autopsy. The limbs were alchemically severed in the exact spot needed to Transmute them onto Ed. Once the ports were removed, as far as my research is telling me, actually Transmuting the nerves, flesh, skin and bone, while an extremely painful process, can be done in about half an hour each. Also, I have a friend out in West City who is an auto-mail engineer. He said that, depending on the pain tolerance of the patient, the ports aren't actually all that difficult to remove, providing that someone who knows what they're doing is there to assist the process." He told her.

"Well, still," Riza said, knowing nothing of either alchemy or auto-mail, "What about the fever? I've heard that removing ports can cause a really terrible fever that can put the person out of commission for weeks. Maybe that's what happened."

"Edward never mentioned anything about a fever, and, if he did catch one, based on the analysis of both evidence and a the military police psychologist, whoever wrote the documents found was obsessed with documenting every little thing, whether because of a compulsive need for it or whether he was forced, everything from their meals to when they urinated was recorded in these, Lieutenant. If Edward had a fever, it would have definitely been mentioned. Besides, there are a lot of dates missing from what we found, and, personally, I think Edward has them." He said.

"You can't know that sir, maybe when they fled they took whatever they could grab and left." She suggested.

"I don't think so." He disagreed. "Otherwise Fullmetal wouldn't act so suspicious whenever I ask him about it."

Riza couldn't think of anything to say that would be of any use, so she just sighed and gave up on the useless feat.

"Anyway, back to the important topic of discussion, I need your advice, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't know what to do with this." He gestured towards the photo. "Should I show someone, or should I keep quiet about it until we have more information?"

"It's a tough decision, sir, and the argument easily goes both ways. On one side, if you told someone, for example, General Hakuro, or perhaps even the Fuhrer, you could end up with the support of the most powerful men in the entire country. And that would definitely be advantageous. It would make it easier to look for information, because you wouldn't have to dance around your reasoning for wanting to look at whatever it is you need. On the other hand, it could go completely the other direction. There is always a possibility that the higher ups are deeply involved in what happened to Edward and the other twelve people. If those involved are in the higher end of the military, and they find out that you've gotten wind of their involvement, you could be demoted, discharged or even killed, if that's what it took to keep it all in the dark."

"So what should I do?"

"Sir, what do you think?" She asked gently.

"Well..." He paused for a few seconds, then, "If we did tell them, and they are involved, there is so much that could go wrong, and I don't want to put any of you in danger. I feel like we should keep this quiet until we know exactly how high up the military tree this thing goes."

"Then that is what you should do, sir."

"But what if I'm wrong?"

"Sir, you are very rarely wrong. If your instincts are telling you to withhold this information, then I think you should follow them." She advised.

He smiled. "Thanks, Lieutenant." He said. Hawkeye lit up inside. That smile wasn't the one he used to lure in women, or the one he used to charm his superiors. This one was genuine. This was the one she liked best. It made her feel special, because he so rarely gave that smile to anyone. It was short lived, as always. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a girl in a few hours, and I need to get ready." He got up out of his desk chair and walked past her, giving her a light tap on the shoulder as went.

"But sir..." She began, but he interrupted her.

"No buts', Lieutenant. Love waits for no one, and I think this one just might be it." He said.

"With all due respect sir, you're wrong." She said without thinking. He stopped walking and turned around to face her.

"What do you mean?"

Hawkeye chose her words very carefully.

"I mean, sir, that if love is really true, it will always wait."

"I think you're fooling yourself, Lieutenant." He said lightly. She took in a deep breath before saying sadly:

"Perhaps you're right, sir."

"I usually am." He said with a smile (the womanizing one). With a flick of his wrist, he her alone in the office.

Now that she was alone, she could hang her head. She did. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to fall in love with someone like him? Sure, he cared for her, in some way, but that could be chalked up to them growing up together. He'd been studying alchemy under her father since he was ten years old, so it was only natural that they'd become friends, being the same age. But, as Roy Mustang had grown older, he had also become what the youth of today might call a 'player'. He seemed to be on so many different romantic relationships with so many girls, once or twice he'd even been in three relationships at once. He had been out on dates almost every night, while Riza had stayed at home and cleaned the house, cooked dinner and cared for her aging father. At the time, she had told herself that he had no reason to stay and help her with her chores, because he wasn't Berthold's son, and had no responsibility to him in that way. But as she had grown older, and he'd been out more during the night, sometimes not getting back until one o'clock in the morning, she'd realized that she'd been wrong. He lived in that house, so he should be helping take care of it. He'd fobbed her off when she'd talked to him about it, of course. It had been then that she'd realized just how much he had the power to hurt her without even trying.

It was then that she'd realized she loved him.

When he had joined the military, so had she. When he was sent to wage war in Ishval, she requested to be sent too. Officially, the records said she was sent there by the Military Academy for field training, but that was a lie. After the war, Mustang had taken her under his command and had her promoted to Lieutenant. For a while there, after the war, he'd been so depressed that he hadn't gone out on any dates for months. She'd been both worried and relieved. After the depression went away, he still hadn't gone out, and Hawkeye had thought that perhaps those days were behind him. But when he'd been promoted to Colonel, he started going out again. She hated it. He just didn't seem to see what was in front of him, and it made her feel low and worthless. It was for that reason that she had spent years creating a mask of indifference. The problem was, though, that it had become such a habit that she occasionally forgot to take it off once she was off duty. Her friend, Rebecca Catalina, had certainly complained about it enough times.

Knowing that moping about it wouldn't change anything, she sat down at her desk and pulled out all of her copies of the photographs from the basement. One by one, she started searching through them, looking for signs of military involvement, and sure enough, in every single photo, she was able to identify at least one military soldier. Clearly, the photographer had not been as careful as they'd initially thought. This was a huge step, but then she realized she was faced with yet another problem. The photos were too blurry, and it was impossible to identify the rank of the soldier. If they could just figure out that much, the rest would be easy. They could get a hold of military records of everyone in that rank, and identify who was in the picture, then arrest them for being involved with...well, there were enough charges here to get a man in jail for the rest of his life. Possibly even the firing squad. Or, depending on how deep his involvement went, the noose.

As the hours passed by, the rest of Mustang's staff trickled in. They all had questions about where the good Colonel actually was, and every time they asked her they received the same, tight, frustrated reply. "He's on a date." Noticing her bad mood, they seemed to avoid her for the rest of the day. In all that time, Mustang never returned to the office, and Hawkeye had strong suspicions that he was getting laid. These suspicions only made her temper worse, and once she snapped at Fuery for disrupting her when he asked to borrow a pen. She quickly apologized, but that didn't stop him from kindly asking Havoc for a pen instead. When the day finally ended, she was no closer to figuring out who was in the pictures than when she started. She stayed overtime, reading through the documents depicting the twelve chimeras, but was unable to find anything that really stood out at her. Dismayed, she left the office, locking up behind her. She walked the lonely hallways of Central Command, heading for her car, and she decided to Colonel Mustang a visit at his apartment. It was an unconscious decision, and she hadn't even realized she'd made it until she pulled out from the curb and realized she was heading towards where he lived. Shrugging to herself, she went along with it.

When she parked outside his apartment building a while later, she began to doubt herself. What if the girl he'd gone on a date with was here with him? Pushing the thought aside, she walked into the building, trying to think of an excuse to be here. The best she could come up with was, I was worried. She thought it was the worst excuse in the world as she knocked on his door, but, to be fair, he normally came back to work after his dates.

When no one answered the door, she knocked again, frowning. The Colonel was here, his car was parked outside in the lot. Sure, he usually walked to work to save money and keep himself fit, but he always drove his fancy car to a date. When she received no reply, she was about to kick the door down, when suddenly it opened. By a woman.

"Who are you?" The woman asked, her tone laced with the uppity-ness of the daughter of a rich person. It was then that Hawkeye took stock of what she was wearing. She had wrapped clumsily around her, one of Mustang's black bathrobes. And there didn't seem to be anything underneath. A moment later, Mustang walked into view, also wrapped in a robe.

"Oh, Hawkeye!" He said, surprised. "What're you doing here?"

"Roy, who is this woman?" The woman asked, and Hawkeye had to repress the urge to pound her skull in.

"This is Lieutenant Hawkeye. Lieutenant, meet Diamond Robinson." Mustang said.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." Hawkeye said stiffly.

"Pleased to meet you too." Diamond said, in the way that said she very clearly wasn't. A moment of silence, followed by,

"Lieutenant, what brings you here?"

"I was worried, sir." Hawkeye said, forcing all emotion from her voice. "You did not return to work today and I feared something happened."

"I'm fine, Lieutenant." He replied.

"Good sir. I'll get going, then." She said.

"You do that."

She nodded, saluted, and then spun on her heel. Not half a second later, the door shut, and Hawkeye paused for a moment. "So what is it with you and her?" She heard Diamond ask, in that stupid, snobby voice of hers.

"Absolutely nothing, Diamond." Mustang said. "She's just my Lieutenant, nothing more."

Riza didn't hear what Diamond Robinson said, because she was too busy running. She didn't bother waiting for the elevator, she just wanted to get away as fast as she could. She ran down the three flights of stairs two at a time, and didn't stop until she was outside the apartment building. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she didn't want to stop running. She abandoned her car and continued to run through the streets of Central City, heading to her own apartment. Her chest felt tight, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. Tears streamed down her face, and she no longer had the strength of will to hold them back. She felt empty inside, like she would never again know the meaning of happiness. Absolutely nothing. She's just my Lieutenant, nothing more. Those simple words flowed back into her head, and a sob broke from her as she ran. He had said them so casually, and it hurt her in the worst way. Just those simple words. Just those simple words had broken through all of her defenses and hit her like a bullet to the heart.

Is that really all I am to you? Just a Lieutenant? She felt sick, sick and suddenly exhausted. Do all the years we spent together mean nothing to you? Riza could not seem to control her thoughts anymore. They came, unbidden, and made her hurt even worse. And then all the memories came. All the times he had fobbed her off, or told her it didn't matter, or blown off work to go on a date with snobby bitches like Diamond Robinson. Those uppity bitches with their fancy clothes and too much makeup. And then the better memories. All the smiles, all the simple touches, like the time he held her hand at her father's funeral, or the times when he patted her back or her shoulder, or the time he had held her in his arms after burning her father's alchemy notes from her back. The time he had complimented her on how nice her hair looked long, or how sophisticated it looked pinned up in her usual bun. Had all of that been a lie?

She didn't even register it when she ripped the hairpin from her hair and threw it to the ground, slamming her military-issue boots down upon it, shattering it into a million tiny pieces. Her hair flew free behind her as she started running again, and she hated it, because he had complimented it.

Before she knew it, she was in her own apartment again, and she was in her bathroom, in front of the mirror, with scissors. Carefully, she cut away her incredibly long locks of hair, shortening it to what it had been her entire life, before she had met Winry Rockbell that day and decided it might look nice. Once it was all gone from the neck down, she grabbed her straight razor from the drawer and nicked away at all the stray strands, neatening up her neck. By the time she was done, she felt just a little better. Like some of the pain was gone. Not enough pain, but some of it.

Feeling hollow, she left the bathroom, and saw Black Hayate waiting patiently beside his food bowl, waiting to be fed. Instead of feeding him, she leaned her back against the wall and slid down it, just the way the tears began to slide down her face again. Hayate's ears pricked forward and he trotted over to her, putting his front paws on her stomach. She wrapped her arms around the small dog and pulled him closer, taking some comfort in his warmth. He didn't protest, just rested his little head on her chest and allowed her to hold him, knowing in the way the dogs always seem to know that she needed comforting. She put her head in the crook of his neck and began to sob. Lightly, at first, but then the sobs became bigger, and soon she was crying completely. She was down the rabbit hole, and now she couldn't stop falling. She felt like her heart had been ripped into two pieces by Mustang's words. Mustang was everything she lived for, but how could she continue to live for him now that she knew how he really felt about her? Her entire world was crashing down around her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She sat there for hours, crying out her heart to her understanding dog. She even found herself talking to him about everything she was feeling, and, insanity or not, the dog seemed to be listening. It even felt good, in a way, to talk about it to someone, even if it was only her dog. When she was finally done, she dragged herself to her feet and stumbled her way to bed, stripping off her military uniform and pulling on her nightgown. She tossed and turned for what felt like hours, not getting to sleep until something like two or three in the morning. She had to wake up at six thirty, and, tiredly, she went through her morning routine; had a shower, put on her uniform, made toast, fed Hayate, went to her car. Dismayed, she realized that she'd left it in front of Mustang's apartment building the previous night, and decided she would collect it later. For now, she would walk.

She was a few minutes late getting into office, but it didn't matter, because Mustang hadn't arrived yet anyway. The rest of the team was there, though, including Edward, and all of them complimented her on her hair. Only Edward asked if she was okay, (you look exhausted, have a bad night?) and she told him not to worry about her. Edward himself looked exhausted as well, although he always seemed to lately, but at the same time, he looked a little better. She told him as much, and he said that he was feeling a little better than usual today. He didn't elaborate, and Hawkeye didn't ask. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her, that's what she had learned about Edward Elric.

"What's that?" She asked as he placed a yellow envelope on the Colonel's desk.

"Report." She said.

"Another one?" She said in disbelief.

"Yeah, the Colonel is adamant." He replied, shrugging.

"About what?" She inquired, remembering the conversation she had had with the man the day before about Ed.

"He wants to know absolutely everything that I know about that Goddamn basement, and everything I put in just isn't good enough. Frankly, he's driving me mad." He grumbled the last bit. Knowing how he felt, she lightly put a hand on his right shoulder. He winced, and she frowned, taking her hand back.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He said quickly. "Shoulder's just a bit sore, that's all." He added when she gave him her 'I don't believe you' look.

"Well, don't worry, Ed. In fact, the good Colonel is actually driving me half mad as well, so you're not alone." She told him, and he smiled.

"And why is that, Lieutenant?" Mustang's voice cut in from behind them, and both her and Edward jumped in alarm. Quickly, she saluted him.

"Nothing, sir." She said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. "It's not important."

"No, tell me, why am I driving you mad?" He asked innocently, closing the door behind him and striding confidently over to her. In her peripheral vision, she could see Edward begin to tremble slightly. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she was too busy trying to stop the trembling in her own hands. Her heart was racing, her pulse pounding in her head. His onyx eyes were locked onto her, and she couldn't pull her own eyes away.

"I..."

"You're hair looks wonderful cut short, Lieutenant." He said, and, unless her ears were playing tricks on her, he sounded almost seductive.

She wanted to say 'thank you'. Instead she said, "How was your date, sir?"

"Oh yeah! I almost forgot!" Havoc piped up, rising from his chair. She began to breathe again as Mustang turned away from her to engage the Second Lieutenant in detailed descriptions of his 'wonderful date'.

"Did you get laid?" Havoc asked.

"You bet your rank I did!" Mustang said excitedly, and Riza wanted to snap his arm in half.

"Hawkeye, you okay?" Edward asked beside her, his voice low.

"To tell you the truth, Edward?" She said sadly. "No."


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you with me after all  
> Why can't I hear you  
> Are you with me through it all  
> Then why can't I feel you  
> Stay with me, don't let me go  
> Because there's nothing left at all  
> Stay with me, don't let me go  
> Until the Ashes of Eden fall
> 
> ~Ashes Of Eden (Breaking Benjamin)

"The missing documents."

Silence stretched out between them, and Edward thought he might just die of the tension. Of the fear of how Maes would react to him having vital information all along, and not handing it in. His heart pounded in his head, and his hands trembled. He raised his head, searching Maes' face, trying to read his emotions. But Edward could not tell how the man was feeling, he just didn't know. He just wished Maes would say something already, and spare him this fear. But first he wanted him to read what they said, and to not judge him until then.

"Just...just read them..." He said at last. "Please." Without saying anything, Maes nodded, looking down to read the first page. Instantly his eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something when Edward cut in. "Don't say anything, not until you've read all of it." Maes nodded again, returning his gaze to the files before him. Slowly, his eyes scanned the page, then moved it to the back and began to read the second page. Time seemed to have frozen for Ed, or, at the very least, slowed down. By the third page, Maes' own hands had begun to shake as well, and his bottom lip was trembling. When he started on the fourth page, Edward's legs couldn't take the suspense any more, and he dropped to his bottom, leaning against the wall. He curled up into a ball and put his head on his knees, inhaling slowly.

Finally, presumably when he had finished reading, Maes said. "Oh Edward..." He dropped to his knees beside him and wrapped his arms around Ed, who by now had begun to shake furiously. Now that Hughes knew...what would happen? How would he think of him now? His secret was out, and Hughes could tell it to anybody. His mind traveled back to the lab, to when he had finally caved in to the man who always asked him how he felt after a Transmutation, and he had finally admitted that it felt like being ripped apart from the inside out. The man had petted his head like a dog and said that he'd be glad he had told him how he felt, and then the Circle had been adjusted so that he could deal with the pain easier. Would it be like that? Would the pain lessen now that he'd given away his secret? "It'll be okay."

"How can it be okay?" Edward asked, raising his head to look at the older man. His face looked blurry, and Edward realized it was because his eyes were filled with tears. Hastily he wiped them away, furious at himself. "How can it ever be okay..." He whispered, "Now that I'm this?"

"Because I'm going to help you." He answered.

"I don't need help." Edward said stubbornly, lying to both Maes and himself.

"Yes, you do, Ed. I know you're too proud to admit it, but there are some things you can't go through alone. This is one of those things."

There was silence between them, and then, Ed whispered, "I don't know what to do..."

"Well, what do you think you should do?" Maes asked.

"I don't know..." He repeated.

"Do you think you should tell someone? Alphonse?"

"No!" Edward exclaimed, horrified. "Al can never know."

"You want to spend your whole life lying to your brother?" Hughes asked.

"It's not lying if it never comes up..." Edward whispered, almost to himself. "And why would it? It's not like Al's ever gonna just go, 'Hey brother, are you a chimera?'"

"I suppose not. Ed, are you sure that you don't want to tell anyone?"

"I'm sure." Edward said, feeling determined. "Know one can know. Besides, what would they think of me, if they did?" The fear that had started to ebb returned full force, and Ed's shoulders began to shake again. He wished that he wouldn't have to deal with all of this, that he could just somehow change everything that had happened so that this wouldn't. He had thought along this train many times, yet here he was, boarding it again.

"Edward, no one's opinion of you would change." Maes said. "Mine hasn't."

"It...it hasn't?" Ed asked quietly.

"No." Maes assured him. "You're still Edward."

Edward felt something wet slide down his cheeks, and he realized he was crying with relief. Despite his logic telling him that Hughes would never judge him for this, there had still been some part of him that had been sure that the man would hate him. He was unbelievably relieved that he had been wrong. This time he didn't bother trying to hide the tears. It was okay to be weak in front of Maes, wasn't it? After all, the man had said he was like a son to him, and children didn't have to hide their emotions from their fathers, right? Edward wouldn't know...his father had run out on him and Alphonse when they were still little, so he had never really known what it was like to actually have a father.

"Thank you." He said quietly.

"Don't worry about it, Ed." Maes said, pulling him close.

With the exception of Hawkeye, Edward was the last one to arrive at the office the next morning. He said the usual murmured hellos to the rest of the staff, sat down at Hawkeye's empty desk and finished off his latest report. He'd done so many of the same report at this point that he didn't even have to think about what he was writing anymore, he his hand just wrote it. He was getting sick and tired of doing it, but there was no way he was going to tell the Colonel the truth, so, until the bastard found some other way to punish him, he would just have to put up with this. Just as he finished it, Hawkeye walked in the door. The first thing he noticed was that she looked like she'd gotten about two minutes of sleep last night. The second thing was that she had cut her hair. He stood up as he complimented her on it, and she thanked him, but Ed could tell (from personal experience with the same thing) that it was half hearted. Slipping his report into a yellow envelope, he went to put it on Colonel Bastard's desk.

"Are you okay, Lieutenant?" He asked her quietly, slipping beside her. "You look exhausted, have a bad night?"

"Don't worry about me, Edward." She replied. "How about you? You're looking just a little better than normal."

"Thanks, I am feeling a little better than usual today." He said. He chose not to elaborate, and she didn't ask for more, for which he was grateful. He remembered that he still had the Colonel's stupid report in his hands, and put it on his desk, so that he could look at it when he got here, if he ever did, that was.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Report." He answered simply.

"Another one?" She asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

"Yeah," He said, rolling his eyes, "The Colonel is adamant." He shrugged his shoulders.

"About what?" She asked, a look he couldn't identify in her eyes.

"He wants to know absolutely everything that I know about that Goddamn basement, and everything I put in just isn't good enough." He told her. "Frankly, he's driving me mad."

With a knowing look, she put her hand on his right shoulder, and without meaning to, he winced. His last beating with the Colonel had left a flourishing purple bruise right in the spot where she'd touched, and, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, it hurt! Frowning, she took her hand away, and he immediately felt guilty. It wasn't her fault, after all.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Nothing." He said quickly. When she gave him the look that said she didn't believe him, he added, "Shoulder's just a bit sore, that's all."

"Well, don't worry, Ed." she said. "In fact, the good Colonel is actually driving me half mad as well, so you're not alone." He smiled at that, and, for a moment, her face lit up a little bit. It fell immediately after.

"And why is that, Lieutenant?" The Colonel's voice from behind them made them both jump. Hawkeye saluted the man.

"Nothing sir. It's not important." She said quickly, and Edward wondered about her reasoning. Normally, in the woman's eyes, Roy Mustang could do no wrong, and Ed couldn't help but be curious as to what he had done to change that.

"No, tell me, why am I driving you mad?" He closed the door behind him and strode over to them, or, to her. Ed's hands began to tremble slightly at the proximity, and he could see, through his peripheral vision, that hers were as well. What the Hell did he do to her to make her react like that? he wondered.

"I..." The Lieutenant murmured.

"You're hair looks wonderful cut short, Lieutenant." The Colonel said, and, the way Hawkeye's eyes flashed with brief mixture of fury and fear, Edward had to resist the urge to step in front of her and shield her from him.

For a few moments, Ed could see a battle waging in her face, trying to find the right words to say. He half expected her to say 'thank you', but instead the words that left her lips were, "How was your date, sir?" Edward had forgotten that the man had gone on a date yesterday. He hadn't been at the office all day, so he'd been able to relax a bit.

"Oh yeah!" Havoc piped up, rising from his chair. "I almost forgot!" Mustang turned away to engage Havoc in their little conversation concerning his 'wonderful date'. As they discussed it, Edward could see fury rise up in Hawkeye's eyes, though she kept it hidden from her face. She looked like she could shoot him in the foot and not bat an eyelid. He felt sorry for her, but, in his young nativity, wasn't sure exactly why.

"Did you get laid?" Havoc asked him. Ed wasn't sure what exactly 'laid' meant, but from the way Mustang reacted, it was apparently something desirable on a date.

"You bet your rank I did!" The man said excitedly, and Edward could see more and more the pain that followed the fury in Hawkeye's eyes.

"Hawkeye, you okay?" Ed asked her, his voice low, so that only she could hear him.

"To tell you the truth, Edward?" She said sadly. "No."

Edward wasn't sure what he could say to make her feel better, and ended up just standing there awkwardly. To be perfectly honest with himself, Edward was just glad that the Colonel wasn't grilling him about his report being identical to the last again. Looking over at the man, he could see the conversation between him and the Second Lieutenant begin to die down a little bit, and quickly tried to find a way to leave the room. "Uh, would you like me to get you a coffee or something?" He asked, hoping she would say yes.

"No, it's okay, Ed -" She began, but Mustang's voice cut her off.

"That's a great idea, Fullmetal. Why don't I come with you?"

"No, really, it's fine." He tried to avoid the alone time with the older man, but he ended up failing miserably. Before he knew it, he ended up walking down the oddly quiet halls of Central H.Q with his, currently, second least favourite person. His first least favourite being his father, Van Hohenheim. The people that turned him into the creature he was now didn't count; he didn't know who they were.

"So, Edward." Mustang said, after what felt like eons of silence.

"Y-yeah?" He responded.

"How's that report coming along?"

"Finished it this morning."

"And..."

"And what, old man?" Ed snapped.

"That's no way to treat you superior officers, Elric. You're lucky you're only talking to me. Had you been under the command of someone like Brigadier General Grand, and your sharp tongue would have earned you a demotion in an instant." Mustang said.

"Yeah, well, I bet Brigadier General Grand doesn't make his subordinates hand in the exact same report every single day just to be a jackass." Without warning, Ed felt the back of Mustang's gloved hand make harsh contact with his cheek, and he froze for a moment, letting the daze wear off.

"Watch your tongue, Fullmetal!" Mustang hissed. "If you would just tell me the truth, and stop lying to me, I wouldn't have to." He said, his tone returning to it's usual detached self. They resumed walking again, and Edward said,

"If you weren't such a jackass, maybe I could trust you enough."

"Ah, so you finally admit that you are, in fact, hiding something." Mustang said smugly.

"Yeah, too bad you'll never find out, Colonel Bastard."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Fullmetal, you've heard of the stories about me in Ishval, haven't you?" He said, his tone casual.

"Yeah...who hasn't?" Ed said, unsure where this was going.

"So you know that I can be very ruthless, don't you?"

"Oh, now I catch your meaning." Edward said, trying to keep the tremble from his voice, and, for once, actually succeeding. To Mustang, it would have sounded like he didn't actually care.

"So, why don't we avoid all that and you just tell me?"

"Nah." Ed said with a flick of his wrist, his eye catching the coffee machine and going over to make the Lieutenant a coffee. They were in the cafeteria now, and there were plenty of people around, so Edward was feeling a little better. In this place, where anyone could overhear, Mustang had to be very careful about what he said. He also had to be careful about how he treated Ed physically. That gave Edward a confidence he hadn't felt thirty seconds ago. "Like I said, I don't trust you enough."

"And why would that be?" Mustang asked, his voice slightly tight, like he was just itching to slug Ed's smug face and resisting.

"Well, for starters, what you've been doing the past week. That could be considered the act of someone untrustworthy. I don't even know why I let you do it, to be honest." I could always retaliate.

"But you won't."

"And why not?"

"Because I have a very good hold over you."

"Is that so?" Ed asked, finishing the coffee and grabbing another Styrofoam cup. He hadn't planned on getting anything for himself, but he was slightly amused right now as to where Mustang would take this, and he planned to milk that cow for as long as he could. "Elaborate."

"Well, for starters, you're brother. I could always...show him the way to Central's main research lab. It would be interesting to see what the place makes of him."

Cold fury rose up inside Edward, and it took all his will to not throw the steaming hot cup of coffee at the bastard's stupid face. He took in a deep breath for a moment, forcing his brain to think for a minute. "But I've got dirt on you too, Colonel." He said, smiling.

"Oh really? And what dirt could you possibly have on me?" The Colonel asked, rolling his eyes, apparently not believing Edward's words. His mistake.

"Remember that day I took the State Alchemy Test?" He said. "And I pretended to attack the Fuhrer?"

"Yes?"

"Well, I noticed how a certain bastard never reacted. When all the other soldiers were jumping to help, this person just stood there looking amused. They also admitted to me later that it wouldn't be so bad for them if the Fuhrer had been killed. This person remind you of anyone, Colonel?" Edward looked up at the man, amused, as his eyebrow twitched. "You know, some might call that treason, right, Colonel?"

"Major Elric, would you like to join me for a walk to the library later?" Mustang said.

"You're changing the subject, Colonel."

"No, really, just you and me, it will be fun."

"Why do I get the feeling that it won't be?" Edward asked sarcastically, taking a sip from his now-finished hot chocolate. "I don't get a choice, do I, Flame?"

"Not at all, Fullmetal."

"Yup. Thought as much." Sighing, he took another sip of his drink, absently rubbing the bruise no one could see on his shoulder. Mustang watched him do it, and a strange glow lit up in his eyes. It wasn't the first time Edward had seen it, but he hadn't been able to recognize it until now. Now he realized what it was. Maliciousness. Mustang wanted him to go to the library with him (if that's where they were really going, that was), so that he could pull him somewhere secluded and 'interrogate' him. But it wouldn't be so much an interrogation as a pointless beating, and if he could get Ed to break, that was just a bonus. Ed suddenly felt fear slice into him like a knife, and he realized he had to find some way to avoid going to the library with Mustang. "But, actually, I was planning on calling Alphonse tonight." He said the first thing that came to his head. It was plausible, of course, but the Colonel would easily manage to worm him out of it. I've said it, now I have to stick with it! He thought furiously, making it all up as he went. "He's expecting me to, see." He wasn't, actually, they hadn't spoken much at all, because long distance calls were so expensive. "So I don't think I can make it."

"Bullshit." The Colonel said. Ed blinked.

"Sorry?" He hadn't expected the lie to last long, but he also hadn't expected Mustang to call bullshit from the start.

"I don't believe you. The way you were talking and pausing, you were just saying whatever came to your head, Fullmetal." Mustang said.

"No, really, I-" Ed tried to keep it going, but it was a futile effort.

"Keep lying to me, Fullmetal." Mustang said darkly. "See what happens." Edward gulped, and it occurred to him that Mustang was walking away, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Edward quickly jogged after him, falling into step with his quick pace a few squares of tile out of the cafeteria. His right hand (the hand holding his hot chocolate) was shaking terribly (it did that sometimes when he was afraid of furious, more so than normal), and he tightened his grip on the plastic cup to keep it falling from his hands.

They walked back to the office in silence, the only thing to fill it was their footsteps on the tile. He knew there was no way to get out of leaving Central H.Q, alone, with Mustang, yet still, his brain ran through a thousand impossible scenarios in which to escape it. The few beatings he had endured so far had been nothing, he knew, compared to what awaited him if he went. Mustang would be merciless, pounding into his flesh with fists of steel. He shuddered at the thought, his grip slipping on the cup again. Quickly, he tightened his fist around it, but he gripped too tight, and the lid of the cup flew off, and boiling hot chocolate exploded onto his arm and his hand. Swearing, he jumped to the side, human (and maybe not so human) instinct trying to avoid the steaming hot liquid. All the same, he could not avoid it, and it soaked through his sleeves and his glove and seared his skin. His shoulder hit something solid when he jumped, and he froze in fear.

He had hit Mustang.

Looking up shakily at the man, he saw that he had managed to make the Colonel spill some of his own coffee. His black eyes burned down into Ed's golden ones, and a chill swept up his spine. Oh, he was going to pay for his clumsiness. "I'm sorry." He whispered. Mustang did not reply, just stared furiously down at him, and Edward felt suddenly like he was about the size of an ant. The wolf within him burned to get out, to show Mustang that he was not just going to let him use him as a punching bag just because. Edward forced himself to remember that the man wouldn't be punching him if he just told, and that he could never tell. Really, it was just one big loop with no escape. Mustang was beating him because he wouldn't give away his secret, but Edward couldn't give away the secret because he could not trust Mustang with it. So Mustang would continue to beat him. He could hardly believe it had only been a single week since he had been saved from...that place, and already he felt like maybe he hadn't really been rescued at all.

Edward shook his head as he walked through the office door, handed Hawkeye her coffee with a mumbled 'here you go', and sat down on the couch, wishing he still had his own drink. "Are you okay, Ed?" Hawkeye asked, sitting on the couch next to him.

"Fine." He said tiredly. "I just spilled my drink on myself."

"Would you like some of this?" She asked, offering him her cup.

"No thanks, I can't stand coffee." He said, shaking his head.

"Okay then." She said, frowning. "Hey! I'm going to a karaoke night tonight a few blocks away from the Lieutenant Colonel's house, would you like to come with me?" She asked him. He was about to jump at it, because even he didn't mind karaoke, but Mustang beat him to it.

"He can't, Lieutenant. We're going to the library tonight." He told her.

"The library, at night?" She asked skeptically. "Why?"

"There is some research that Fullmetal is assisting me with." He said.

"And what is that?" She asked, her voice betraying a hint of irritation.

"Bio-alchemy." Mustang said simply. Ed wanted to throw him out the window.

"Can't you two do that earlier in the day?" She persisted.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't have the time. I have work to do."

"So you can blow off an entire workday to go on a date," she said coldly, "But you can't spare an hour in the afternoon to go to the military library for work purposes?"

This silenced the Colonel. "Fine, waste time taking Fullmetal to karaoke." He said eventually. "We can go to the library some other time."

"Thank you, sir." Hawkeye said, and, unless Edward was mistaken, she sounded just a little bit smug.

The day passed by fairly quickly after that. Both Ed and Hawkeye left work early so that they could shower and change before she picked him up at the Hughes' apartment building at six thirty. When Ed got home, Gracia was on the phone. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He went to his room, grabbed a clean pair of black pants and a tank top and took them to the bathroom. Dumping them next to the sink, below the mirror, he grabbed a fluffy towel from the cabinet and tossed it over them. Then he stripped off his used clothes and placed them in the wash-basket hanging from the door. Turning on the taps, he stepped under the hot spray of the shower. The hot water hit his back and slid down his skin, drenching him completely within seconds. He sighed, tipping his face up so that the water hit his face. A few seconds of bliss later, he wiped his eyes and grabbed the bottle of shampoo sitting on the little rack, squirted some into his hand, and lathered his hair with it. He didn't need to use quite as much anymore, because he didn't have as much hair. He still missed the weight of the braid between his shoulders, but at least is was easier to take care of this way. Not bothering with the conditioner (it made his hair too greasy), he picked up the bar of soap and cleaned his skin. His right arm still stung from the hot chocolate, but he had gotten used to it by this point.

He finished washing up, but stayed in the shower just a little longer. He loved the feel of the near boiling water trailing down his skin, loosening his tight muscles, and relaxing him. It felt nice. For months, he'd been practically a nomad, moving from place to place, never really staying anywhere for too long. A lot of time he'd been in backwater towns similar to Resembool, where they didn't have very good hot water supplies, and, in his quest for the Philosopher's Stone, he'd sometimes gone weeks without a good shower trying to find it. Very rarely had he had the time to enjoy a good shower like this. He sighed, switching off the water and stepping out. There was steam clinging to the mirror and floating around the air, and, snatching the towel up, he began to dry off. It was amazing how much quicker his hair was to dry when it was this short. Maybe he would keep it like this...

When he was dressed he unlocked the door and turned off the light, walking out into the hallway. Moving into the kitchen, he spotted Gracia standing over the hot plates, stirring a pot of something that looked like soup. He told her not to make anything for him, Lieutenant Hawkeye was taking him out for the night. Gracia told him that that was great, to have fun, and that she'd save some for him anyway in case he was hungry when he got back home. He thanked her graciously before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind him (he had a key to the place now). Heading down the flights of stairs, he realized Hawkeye's car was already waiting for him outside, and he popped into the front seat.

"So, where are we going?" He asked.

"The other side of Central." She told him, starting the car's engine. "There's a dance night with karaoke down in the warehouse district."

"Warehouse district?" He asked, confused. "Why is it there?"

"There are a whole bunch of unused buildings down there, and some of Central's music producers decided to set up a little something down there because of all the room." She explained, pulling the car out of the curb and driving out onto the roads.

"Oh, cool." He said.

"Yeah, it should be fun, I thought you might like it. Oh, I'm also meeting up with my friend Rebecca, if that's alright."

"Hey, Hawkeye?" He asked.

"Yes?" She said, her eyes flickering briefly toward him before looking back out at the road.

"Why did you invite me to come with you?"

"Because you looked about as excited to be spending time with the Colonel as I am right now." She said.

"Is he coming?" He asked in alarm.

"No, I..." She laughed to herself for a second. "Sometimes I forget how young you are, Ed. I meant that you didn't look like you wanted to be near him at all, which is exactly how I feel at the moment, so I thought you might like to come with me to this. And Ed?"

"Yeah?"

"If the Colonel is making you uncomfortable in any way, you tell me, okay?"

Edward hung his head. God, he hated lying, so much, but sometimes you just had to, to protect yourself and to protect those around you. "Sure, of course." He said.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you, there is nothing I won't give  
> To see this through  
> Return the soul to where it lives  
> I promise you, I'd go everywhere I've been  
> To find a way to make atonement for my sin and see  
> See your smiling face again
> 
> ~Nothing I Won't Give (Vic Mignogna)

Edward walked through the forest outside of central, hands shoved into his pockets, thinking about everything. The day was nice, the sun was up, the breeze was cool, and the birds chirped away in the trees as Ed walked by them. There was none of the city's noise out here, the thick canopy of trees blocking it all away. It had become one of Edward's favourite places to be over the past month, since he had been rescued from the basement where he had been held captive. He enjoyed the peace and quiet here, and it helped him to think about whatever was on his mind without having to worry about distractions.

He had found this place a few days after he had finally given away his secret to Maes Hughes, his host and his like-a-dad. Since then, he had come here almost daily, to compose himself after Mustang beat him up, or to simply think about stuff. Today, he was thinking about Alphonse. He had talked to his brother one or two times since he had found out that his brother couldn't make it to Central for a while, and all the while he had been feeling like he was letting his brother down. How exactly, he didn't know, but it was his nature to blame himself for everything, so that was what he did. Al was probably worried sick about his older brother, and that made Edward mad. It was Edward who was supposed to bear everything, because he was the eldest. It was him who was tasked with bearing the pain, the fear, the guilt, the rage. That was his job, yet somehow Alphonse had still been assigned fear because of him. Probably rage, too, because Edward had been stupid and gotten himself kidnapped, and maybe even guilt. Edward was supposed to protect his little brother from those things, but he hadn't. He was a failure for an older brother. An absolute failure.

Kicking a pebble out of his way, he sat down beside the trunk of a tree. He liked the feel of the bark pressing against his back, for some reason. He suspected it was because it wasn't rock. Anything was better than rock. A wave of guilt rolled over him, and it wasn't the first. If Alphonse were here with him, and had sat down beside him, and leaned his back on this tree, he would not have been able to feel the course bark pressing against his skin, because he didn't have skin, he had armour. He didn't have a body, he had a cold shell, empty of everything except a blood seal that was all that bound his baby brother's soul to the world. Ed had been the cause of that. Ed had been the reason that Alphonse had tried to perform Human Transmutation, in an effort to bring back their deceased mother. Ed had convinced him to do it with him, because he had been greedy, and didn't want to live without his mother, because he was too weak to do it. So they had done it, they had done what was strictly forbidden, and they had attempted to revive the dead. Edward had lost merely a leg for his attempt, but Alphonse had lost his entire body. It was A who had been given the bigger burden to bear, instead of Edward. It had been all his fault.

Again, guilt plagued him, because he had barely thought about his brother's hardships all month. He had been selfish, too wrapped up in his own petty problems, with his stupid half-human body and Mustang's stupid beatings and the Goddamn reports he had to write, that he had forgotten to think about his little brother. Edward looked at his hands. The new one, the one that didn't belong to him, had still to match the colour of his other arm. It was still pale and foreign, because Edward refused to let the world see it. Because it wasn't his. Yet, all the same...at least he had flesh, at least he had blood. He could feel the cold and the warmth, he could feel pain and pleasure, he could eat and drink and sleep, he could do all of the things that his brother couldn't do because of the shell he had been stuck with, and it was all because of Edward's mistake!

Rage boiled within him, and, as calmly as he could, he stood up, faced the tree, and punched it, as hard as he could, with his right arm. Pain exploded in his fist and shot up his arm like a bullet. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain as best as he could, and punched the tree again, this time with his left arm. The same thing happened, pain, grit, repeat. Pain, grit, repeat. Pain, grit, repeat, until eventually his hands and arms were numb with it. At least I can feel it! He thought furiously, as he kicked the tree with his left foot. At least I can feel what I do! Al doesn't have that! He doesn't have that because of me and my idiocy!

And my alchemy.

The thought hit him like a rock, and it made him pause in his furious battle with the tree. It occurred to him that he hadn't even attempted to use alchemy since he'd been rescued, which meant that it had been nearly three months, completely alchemy free. Stepping away from the tree that refused to be beaten, he stared at his hands again, which were red raw and bleeding. Would he even be able to actually perform alchemy, now that he was a monstrosity of nature? Well, there was only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, he clapped his hands. Instantly, he felt the familiar surge of alchemy flow through him. It buzzed at his fingertips. In his mind, he thought of an array. He imagined the lines, the circle, the sigils. He saw the whole thing in his head, as clearly as a book, and he knelt down and pressed his hands to the ground. A circle of earth caved in, and from it rose a spear, perfectly designed. It rose taller than Edward himself, and when it was done, it began to fall sideways, and he caught it in his hands. Pulling it towards him, he let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He could still do alchemy.

Which meant that he could still get his brother back in his body.

Suddenly, the emptiness he had felt all month was filled again. The determination he had lost returned to him, and he remembered his purpose in life, his ultimate goal. He had to get his little brother, Alphonse, his body back. And he would stop at nothing to do it. Absolutely nothing.

He left the forest, heading straight for the National Library. If there was anything in there that could help him, it would be there. His mind wandered as he walked, searching his memory about everything he knew about human alchemy. He forced his mind to recall everything he had ever learned in his early days of alchemy, in the days where he and Al had tried to teach themselves how to bring back their mother. He made his brain think about every single lesson his Teacher had taught him while he had been under her study. And he remembered everything he had learned in his journey to regain Al's body back. With all of his knowledge, combined with the research materials he would find in the library, there was no way he could fail.

Before he knew it, he was at the place he was trying to find. He flashed his pocket watch to the guards out front as they tried to stop him, and immediately they stepped back and saluted him. He waved briefly at them before opening the library's great big doors and walking inside. Instantly, he went over to the alchemy section. Scanning the titles as he went, occasionally taking out relevant books, he made his way to the private reading area. To his complete and utter dismay, Mustang was sitting on one of the couches, his eyes moving across one of the pages of the alchemy book he had in his hands. Annoyed, Edward sat on the bean bag that was furthest away from the bastard, pulled out one of the books he'd picked up, and looked again at the title. 1000 Easy Recipes For Home Cooking, by Tim Marcoh. Despite the title saying it was a cookbook, it had been filed in the alchemy section, so Edward had assumed that it was obviously this Marcoh person's coded research. The decoding of it should be fairly easy for him, seeing as it was coded in typical alchemical fashion: recipes. The problem was, he had no idea who this Marcoh guy was. He was pretty familiar with all of the famous alchemists of history, but he'd never even heard of this guy. But, there was someone who most likely would know...

Dammit!

"Hey, Colonel Asshole." He said reasonably loudly, catching said asshole's attention.

"What, Fullmetal?" Mustang snapped irritably, looking up from the book he was reading.

"Who's Tim Marcoh?" He asked. Mustang paused for a moment, apparently trying to think.

"Hmm, Tim Marcoh. I remember him. Why do you ask?"

Edward held up the cookbook in his hands. "I found this a couple shelves back, but I don't recognize the author." He explained. "You know who he is?"

"I do." Mustang said. "But why should I tell you?"

"Why shouldn't you?" Edward countered.

"I don't know...I don't know if you're trustworthy enough." He said with a smirk.

Edward glowered at him. "You really are an asshole, aren't you?"

"Equivalent Exchange, Edward." Mustang said. "You tell me you're secret and I'll tell you mine."

"It's not equivalent at all. Whatever you've got on this guy is nothing compared to what I've got." He said.

"Oh really. Tell me and we'll find out."

"Not a chance."

"Then I guess you'll just never know who Marcoh is. Or where he is." The man added.

"You know where the guy lives? Creepy, much?"

"It wouldn't be quite so creepy if you actually knew the reasons."

"Tell me then."

"Tell me your secret."

"Never."

"Then no." The Colonel said, and Edward fell silent. He had to try and think of a way to get Mustang to tell him who this guy was. The man might have double motives, like finding Edward's secret, or just plain pissing him off, but he wouldn't have bothered with it if the information wasn't useful. Edward hadn't been overly concerned at first, but now that he knew Mustang was hiding something he could use, he had to get it out of him.

"I can't tell you what it is you want to know." He said slowly. "But is there anything else I can do that would make you tell me about this guy?" Mustang considered the question for a few minutes, and Edward could see a fierce battle raging behind the man's black eyes. Edward swallowed; whatever the man was thinking, it wasn't going to be fun for him. After what felt like decades, Mustang finally spoke.

"Tell me about your rape." He said.

Edward's mind went numb. A shiver ran down his spine, and his mouth dropped. He hadn't been sure exactly what to expect from the man, but it certainly hadn't been anywhere near that! "W-what?" He said, his voice trembling.

"I told you, I want you to tell me about your rape. There's no reason to hold back, either. There's no one else other than ourselves in this library today except the volunteers who work here, and they've already checked out the entire alchemy section today, so no one is going to overhear." He said to him, his tone completely casual, as though he hadn't just asked Edward about his mother fucking rape.

"Why the Hell...why do you want to even know?" He tried and failed to stop his voice from shaking. "Why would...I don't understand...I..." His mouth lost the ability to form coherent sentences, and he ended up just saying half formed questions instead.

"I'll tell you why after you've told me every little detail, Fullmetal." Mustang said. "And I'll tell you about Marcoh. But first I want to know every little detail about your rape. " Fear mixed with rage as Edward tried to figure out why the Hell Mustang would even want to know such a personal thing. Didn't he have any idea about personal privacy? Didn't he have any idea how difficult such a topic was to even think about, let alone talk about? Especially to him! But, he needed the information, and it was better than telling him about the fact that he was a chimera...

Weighing the pros and cons, Edward eventually decided that if this could help him get his brother's body back, even just a little, then it was worth reliving the pain.

"It..." He said, not even sure where one was supposed to begin when talking about this. "It was...painful. It hurt. It hurt a lot." He hung his head, ashamed. Never before in his life had he actually admitted to someone when something had hurt, at least not that he could remember. It felt like he was holding up a great big sign over his head, the words painted in neon colours; I'm weak! It was not a feeling he enjoyed. Not at all. "And it was...it was scary..." He said. He hoped beyond hope that these vague descriptions he was giving would be enough for the Colonel. It was so hard already, just saying what he had already said. He didn't want to elaborate any more than he had. He didn't want to give details. Fearful rage swept through him. Why would the Colonel even want to know such a thing? What purpose did the knowledge of such a thing serve for the man? Didn't he know that these memories hurt? Didn't he know anything about the personal privacy of such a matter? Didn't he know how much Edward didn't want to relive the experience? "It's hard...to describe." He said, because he simply could not think of anything else to say that didn't delve into detail.

"Try and think about it. It'll help." The Colonel said. In surprise, Edward looked up at the man. He was leaning forward, sitting on literally the very edge of his seat. Edward swiftly looked back down again. How the Hell would thinking about it help? How would thinking about that actually help him? As far as Edward was concerned, the thing that would help him the most would be to forget it ever happened, not to remember it. Remembering would only make it worse. Again, Edward wondered why the Hell the Colonel even wanted him to relive these memories. Did he get some sort of kick out of it? Slowly, Edward put down Marcoh's book and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop his shoulders from shaking. "Come here." He heard Mustang say, and, without moving his head, Edward raised his eyes to look at the man. He had his arms outstretched, inviting Ed to embrace him. Quickly Edward shook his head no. After all the times that Mustang had hurt him, he didn't to go anywhere near the man. He wanted to stay exactly where he was. He didn't want to hug the man who had beaten him so many times. He didn't want to embrace the man that had demanded he describe his rape to him like it was something that could be discussed easily over coffee. How could Mustang even think for a second that Edward would want to do that? "Come." Mustang repeated, and Edward realized it was more of an order than a request. Shaking, he stood up, and, leaving his books where they were, piled haphazardly around his bean-bag, and dragged his feet towards the man. When he looked up again, the toes of his boots were almost touching the other man's, and he watched as Mustang patted his knee. It took a moment for Ed's suddenly tired brain to process the fact that Mustang wanted him to sit on his lap like a three-year-old.

Instead of moving to do so, Edward stayed where he was. There was no way he was going to sit on his commanding Officer's lap. He may have been a dog, both literally and metaphorically, but he drew the line there. Not that his own desire factored into it at all, of course. Before he knew it, Mustang had reached out and grabbed the fabric of his coat, pulling on it. Ed tripped on the man's boot and Mustang twisted him around, and, within the space of a second, Edward found himself exactly where he didn't want to be.

Sitting on Mustang's lap, with his arms around him in a vice-like grip.

Panicking, Edward squirmed, trying to get free. "Let me go!" He said, struggling to get out of his arms.

"Calm down, Edward, you're being ridiculous." Mustang said calmly. "I'm not going to hurt you." When have you ever kept that particular promise? Edward thought, but made a great effort to calm himself. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he relaxed himself. "There we go. Now, you were saying..."

"I don't want to!" Edward blurted, and as soon as the words left his lips he realized he sounded like a frightened child. He wasn't a child, at least not in his own eyes, but, he could at least admit to himself that he was frightened. He didn't want to be in Mustang's arms, he didn't want to talk about his rape to this man that hurt him whenever he got the chance. He didn't want to be near him at all.

"It's all right Ed. If you think about it, they're only words." Mustang said in what was probably supposed to be a soothing voice, but all it did was make Edward even more scared. He really, really did not want to be here, talking about this. He didn't want to be hugged like this. It was too intimate. It wasn't like the fatherly hugs Maes gave him, it was more like...

"No! Let me go! Let me go!" Edward thrashed, trying even more desperately to get free. This felt too much like when the man in the basement had held him, and he wanted to get out!

"Stop it Edward, you're behaving like a child!" Mustang growled, and, when Edward did not comply, the man raised one arm and punched him below the ribs. Ed's breath escaped him, and he had to stop moving in order to get it back. In the mean time, Mustang had tightened his grip on Ed even more, so that simply moving a little bit was difficult and painful. "Now, Ed, keep going."

"Please." Edward whispered desperately. "Please don't make me." How could he make Mustang understand that they weren't just words? That they were memories he wanted nothing more to forget? That it hurt just to think about them, let alone talk about them, especially to him. Mustang was the person that, at this moment, he trusted least in this world, except for perhaps his father. He didn't want to share these details with him. He was wrong, the information was not worth this. It was not worth this pain. He could have found out about Tim Marcoh from Maes! The man was in Investigations, after all, it would not be hard for him to find the man. "Please..."

"You want that information, don't you?" Mustang asked, and, despite the thoughts that had just passed through his head not two seconds ago, he found himself nodding in defeat. "I know it hurts. I'll help you. Start by telling me how you felt when it was happening?" He guided. His voice was soft, understanding somehow, none of his usual cockiness to be found. It was as though he actually cared.

"I...I was scared." Ed said reluctantly, his voice no more than a quiet whisper, as though as long as he said it quietly it might be erasable. "So scared."

"Why were you scared, Ed?" He asked softly.

"Because it hurt." Edward said. He could hear the despair and the defeat in his own voice. "It hurt and I didn't...I don't even understand what...what it was."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't understand what...what rape actually is, exactly. I just remember that it hurt. It made me feel like I was...dirty, somehow." The words tumbled out of his mouth in a numb torrent, and Ed found that saying them was getting easier. "Like all the showers in the world would never make me clean again." A sob caught in his throat, and he swallowed, forcing it down. He was already leaving himself so open here, the last thing he needed to do was cry. "They...they did it to me every day. I don't know if it was just the one person or if it was multiple people, but...sometimes, I would wake up and they were already there, doing it to me, while I'd been sleeping! It was like waking up from one nightmare and being plunged into the next." His shoulders were shaking fiercely now, and Mustang resting his chin on his left shoulder only made it worse.

"Oh Ed." He said, sounding...genuinely sorry? What? Was the world tipping on it's head or something? Was it some sick, twisted form of opposite day? Why the Hell was this happening? Edward was so confused, he just didn't understand what was happening with his Commanding Officer. "It's all okay now. You're out of that place, they can't hurt you from here. You don't need to be afraid of them anymore. It's over."

"Then why are you making me relive it?" Edward said, and his voice cracked halfway through the sentence. "I just...I don't understand why...why do this to me..."

"Because I wanted to know if it was as bad for you as it was for me." Mustang said. Ed let that juggle around in his own head for a moment, pondering the implications.

"What?" He said stupidly.

"I wanted to know if you felt the same way after your rape as I did after mine. Apparently, I was right."

"You were raped?" Ed repeated dumbly, but it seemed that now that the man had gotten what he wanted, he had infinite patience for his youngest subordinate.

"Yes, I was." He said calmly.

"By who?" Ed asked.

"It was my biological father who did it." He said.

"Your dad...did that...to you? Why?"

"I never found out." Mustang said, his voice, which was dull a moment ago, taking on a hint of amusement. "I was removed from my parents care when I was eleven, and when I was eighteen? My father died in the fire that burned his house to ashes."

"How much do I want to bet that you started that fire?" Edward asked, forgetting for a moment how depressed he was.

"How much do you have?" The man asked, and Edward chuckled a little before going silent. So the Colonel had been raped too, then? Well...he wasn't sure if that changed things, exactly, but...he supposed it was just something else they had in common. Mustang didn't say anything else, and Edward realized just how close they were when he could feel Mustang's heart hammering from his chest on his back. He could feel Mustang breathing, his chest rising and falling behind him. They were so close...

Too close.

Once again, Ed tried to wriggle free of the man's iron grip, but, once again, found he couldn't escape it. Panic swept over him as images of black nothing and the phantom touches of being raped plagued him, and only one coherent thought went through his head: Get out! Desperately, Edward managed to get one arm free, and he used it to elbow the Colonel in his face. The grip on him slackened for a moment, but that was all he needed. He leaned forward and planted his small feet on the floor, then grabbed the one arm still holding him and yanked it off of him, lurching forward and falling to the floor. He rolled and was about to jump up when he felt something press him to the floor. His vision was blurry from all the sudden movement, but when it cleared, he could see a furious Roy Mustang looking down at him. "I'm sorry, I panicked!" Edward said hastily, hoping where there was no hope that Mustang would understand. "You were so close to me, and I just..." With an obvious effort, Mustang changed his facial expression from one of fury to one of calm.

"I understand. I forgive you, Fullmetal. Now, get up, you want to know about Marcoh, don't you?" He said, getting off Edward and sitting down on the floor, indicating to him that he wanted Ed to do the same. Numbly, Edward obeyed. He was just glad that Mustang wasn't touching him or asking him questions now.

When Edward went home later that night, he had all of the information he needed to find this Tim Marcoh, and Mustang had even said that he would send him on a mission that just happened to be in the town the man was hiding out in. It was all set out for him, and the Colonel was already going through the paperwork so that Edward could leave within the next week. He was getting closer to Alphonse having his body back, Edward could feel it. Yet, despite all of that, he just felt so completely tired. Walking pat Gracia in the kitchen, she waved him over, and he altered his course of direction from his room to her. "Hey, Gracia." He said, and he could hear the misery in his voice. It had been hours since he had talked to Mustang in the library, but the depression that had swept him the moment the first question had been asked still had not gone away.

"I know what will make you feel better, Ed." She said cheerfully, noticing his state but not commenting.

"Really?" He asked, trying to sound like he believed her. Whether or not he succeeded he wasn't entirely sure.

"Well, I just got off the phone from Alphonse a few minutes ago." She told him. "The train tracks and the train have been fixed ahead of schedule and Al should be here within the next few days."

Edward knew that that was amazing news, his brother was going to be here! And soon! It was what he'd been waiting for ever since he'd arrived here, and yet, he just didn't feel any different despite. But he couldn't let Gracia know that, because then she would know that there was something wrong with him. So he put on a bright smile, pumped his fist in the air, and said, "You're right, Gracia, that does make me feel better."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know what it's like when  
> You're scared to see yourself?  
> Do you know what it's like when  
> You wish you were someone else  
> Who didn't need your help to get by?  
> Do you know what it's like
> 
> To wanna surrender?
> 
> ~Never Surrender (Skillet)

"Brother, why do you have to be like this?" Alphonse wined.

"What do you mean, Al?" Edward grumbled.

"You're so reckless!" He exclaimed. "You nearly clawed that guy's face off!"

"I did not, Al."

"You did too! Exactly how long are your nails anyway?" Ed pulled up short of opening the door to the Hughes' apartment, the place he had come to think of as home. Alphonse had arrived in Central last night, but already Edward was begging to realize it had been so much easier when he had been in Resembool. He hadn't needed to hide here before his brother came, because Maes already knew what he was. Maes already knew that he was a freak, a monster. And he was okay with that. He was helping Edward. He was helping him to not stress so much about everything. He was studying the documents, looking for any kind of sign that might give them a clue as to who his captors were, why they did this to him, and where they might be. He had told Ed that he already had a few theories, thanks to the documents Ed had given him. It made him feel just a little bit better that they were getting closer to the people that had morphed him into something nonhuman, but the nightmares still haunted him. Another thing that had been haunting him lately was the conversation with Mustang at the library a few days ago. For the next two days, he had been trapped completely in a deep depression that he had been able to hide but not escape. Every time he'd passed someone who knew him personally, he had to pretend that he was alright, and it had been driving him insane. He was worried, though, that Maes didn't believe his excuses, and he knew that Mustang didn't.

But seeing Alphonse walking off of that train had been like a beacon of light, shining in the darkness. Finally, he'd been able to fight off his misery, because his brother was here, and that meant that everything would be okay. He'd been able to smile honestly again. But as the hours had passed, the strain of hiding what he was was already starting to take it's toll on him, and his brother hadn't even been in Central a full twenty-four hours yet! He'd almost lost control of his claws twice, and not twenty minutes ago he hadn't been able to control them. He'd gotten into a fight with some drunk guy on the street who thought it would be fun to try and beat up the short kid in the odd clothes. Big mistake. Edward had dodged a punch and then tried to swing one of his own. He'd felt a tingling in his arms as he lashed out, and the next thing he knew blood was squirting from the man's face, and there were three diagonal lines swiping from his left cheek to his chin. They weren't very deep, but all the same, Edward had lost control. Twenty minutes later here he was now, at the doorstep of Hughes' apartment, the depression and the anxiety already creeping up on him again.

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have tried to pick a fight with me." He said. "He deserved what he got."

"Are you okay, brother?" Alphonse asked, the slightly metallic sound of his voice echoing a little bit from his hollow armour. "You don't sound like yourself."

"I'm just tired Al." Edward said. It was the truth. He was tired; he'd woken up last night from a particularly terrifying nightmare, in which the basement and Mustang had morphed together into one horrific blend. Alphonse had tried to comfort him, tried to wake him, but in the end only Hughes had managed it. Ed knew that made Alphonse feel useless and scared for his older brother. After all, the poor kid was only eleven. He didn't need to deal with his older brother's problems. It made Edward feel so guilty, which only made his depression flourish, which was why he did not sound like himself in the ears of his brother. "It took me ages to fall asleep last night because I was so excited that my little brother is finally with me again." He wasn't sure if he'd convinced his little brother, but at least Al had stopped bugging him now. Pulling out his key, he unlocked the door and entered the apartment, taking off his great big coat and hanging it on the rack. He heard his brother's metal armour clanking as he ducked under the door-frame and followed Ed. Both of them called out to Gracia, and Al went into the living room to play with little Elicia.

"Hey, is Maes here?" He asked her once Al was out of earshot. "I thought he had the day off of work today."

"No, he went to the office for a while to talk to Mustang. Said it was important. I think he said he should be back before lunch." She told him. She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a recipe book. Internally, Edward smiled. Gracia always could be found in the kitchen, preparing to cook something truly delicious. She was an incredible woman, and she reminded him a lot of his own mother.

"Oh," he said, struggling to hide his disappointment. He'd been hoping to talk to the man. If anyone could help him control the wolf inside him, it was Maes, the only person in his life who knew his secret. "That's okay. Thanks Gracia."

"Edward, are you okay?" She asked, concerned. Doggy-earring the page of her book, she closed it, looking up to give Edward her full attention. "You don't sound so good."

"Well thank you, Gracia." He said playfully. He knew she didn't mean to be insulting, but really, first Alphonse, then her? Why couldn't anyone just leave him alone?

"No, really Ed, is something bothering you?" She asked.

"I'm okay, really." He said. "I think I'm gonna go take a nap, could you let me know when Maes gets back please?"

"Of course, Ed." She said. "Have a good sleep." Reopening her book, she began to read again, and Edward silently moved through the lounge room to his bedroom. Because Alphonse couldn't sleep, Ed's younger brother had asked Gracia not to bother setting up a bed for him, which meant that Ed still got the whole room to himself. He hadn't been lying to Gracia, though. He did intend to take a nap. Last night, he and Maes had had to explain to Alphonse everything that had happened to Ed, with the exception of Ed's lost humanity, and it had left Edward exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Hopefully another few hours of sleep would take some of that tiredness away.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maes walked down the hallways of Central Headquarters, heading for the office of one Roy Mustang. His fists were clenched tight, and his arms were shaking ever-so-slightly. He was beyond pissed off. He was furious. How dare he. How dare he! Today was Maes' day off, but he had come in anyway, because Colonel Roy Mustang had some serious explaining to do. Maes didn't like to hurt his friends, but if Mustang didn't give him some straight answers there was going to be some punching. His mind was still trying to deny it, even now, but he fought past that doubt that was trying to take over his head. He had priorities, and Mustang fell second on that priority list. Not even his best friend was at number one, and unless Maes got some answers today, he would be walking away one friend less.

Without knocking, he threw open Mustang's door and barged in. The man looked up from his big desk, but Maes ignored him for the moment. He turned his attention instead to Mustang's staff, asking them politely if he and the Colonel could possibly speak in private for a while. With approval from Mustang, one by one Breda, Falman, Fuery, Havoc and Hawkeye shuffled out, and when the door closed behind the only woman on the team, Maes finally looked at Mustang. He could feel the tension in the air, and, from the look of it, so could Mustang. "What's up, Hughes?" The man asked, linking his fingers together and resting his chin on his knuckles.

"Explain to me, Mustang," Maes said, his voice shaking just as much as his fists, "Why Edward was screaming out for you to stop hitting him in his sleep last night?"

Silence.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Hughes." Mustang said casually.

"Don't lie to me!" Maes shouted, stalking up to Mustang's desk and slamming his palms down on it. He didn't register the sting caused by his hands hitting wood, or the little splinter that caught in the meaty place below his thumb. All he registered was the rage in his heart. "I heard him screaming, I saw the bruises! What the Hell have you been doing to him?"

"I never touched Fullmetal." Mustang said, rising defensively to his feet.

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Mustang?!" Maes yelled. "Are you not listening to me? I saw the bruises you left on his shoulder!Why in the name of all Hell would you hurt Edward? Don't you think he's been through enough crap in his life?!"

"I said I never touched him!"

"Liar!" Maes roared, and slugged him right across the face. Mustang stood still, shocked. Slowly, he lifted one hand to the cheek Maes had punched. Already, it was starting to go pink, and it would probably bruise later on. Mustang was lucky, though, Maes had held back; he'd wanted to hit so much harder than he had.

"You...you hit me..." Mustang said, his voice dazed.

"Yeah, well, you deserved it." Maes growled.

"Why did you hit me...?"

"Why the Hell did you hit Edward?"

"Look, okay, maybe I...maybe I did hit him once..." Mustang confessed slowly.

"Why? Why would you hit him?" He demanded, the fury in him mounting higher.

"He was being a spoiled brat, winging and raving on about something." He said.

"That does not give you the right to hit Edward, who might I remind you is twelve years old!" Maes snarled.

"I know." Mustang said, sitting back down on his chair. "He was just making me so mad, and I just lashed out at him."

"You hit him pretty hard, Roy." Maes said, his heartbeat beginning to return to a semi-normal pace, along with his breathing. He just wasn't the type to stay mad for too long, and, now that Mustang had actually admitted and...kind of...explained himself, he was feeling just a little bit better. He could understand where Mustang was coming from, sort of. Edward could be very infuriating some times, and, while Maes himself, who was a family man, a father, had never even considered hitting him to make him behave, that didn't mean that other people mightn't. After all, that was how most parents dealt with misbehaving children. It was not uncommon, not at all, Maes had just never taken that particular approach, because he despised the idea of beating up a helpless kid. In fact, taking into consideration Roy's childhood, and what had happened to him when he was roughly Ed's own age, it made sense that he would react that way, because that was how he had been brought up. All the same, that did not make what he'd done acceptable.

"I know." He did sound like he regretted it...

"Don't let it happen again, Roy." He said. "You're my best friend, and I love you, but my family will always come first, and I can't have you beating up my family."

"Maes, what the Hell are you talking about? Edward isn't your family, he's not even distantly related to you." Mustang said. Maes sighed, shaking his head.

"You'd have to be a father to understand this, Roy, but blood has nothing to do with family." He told him.

"I guess so, because I have no idea what you're on about."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I don't want you to so much as touch Edward again, or I'm gonna kick your ass, got that?" He threatened.

"Yeah, I got it." Mustang said.

"Good." Maes said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get home. It is my day off, after all."

"Wait." Mustang said.

"What?" Maes turned back to face the man, only a few paces away.

"I really didn't mean to hit him, but I'm just getting so frustrated with him. I know he's keeping something from me, but I just can't figure out how to get him to talk. What should I do to get him to spill?" He asked, and Maes frowned. Not this crap again...

"Roy, did you ever stop to think that maybe he's got his reasons for not telling you? That maybe you should just leave him alone?"

Mustang narrowed his eyes. "You know, don't you?" He asked. Sighing, Maes nodded. "Tell me."

Hughes shook his head. "Sorry, Roy, but I promised him."

"Hughes..."

"Roy, I can't. Look, if Edward trusted you, he would have told you himself. I promised him that I would take this to my grave, and damned if I break that promise." Running his hand through his hair, he sighed again. "If you really want Edward to tell you, then he needs to know he can trust you. You need to stop hitting him, stop being a bastard, and just be nice. Ed's very guarded about everything, especially this, and beating the answer out of him is never going to work. Trust is key, Mustang, that's all you need to know." Turning back around, he strode towards the door, hoping that he hadn't said too much.

"See ya, thanks for the bruise!" Mustang called out, but Maes was already gone.

When he arrived home, a little before lunch time, just as he had promised his beautiful wife, she asked him could he please wake up Edward from his nap. He'd replied sure, of course, and had headed towards Ed's room. On his way there, he passed Al end Elicia, who was asleep, he face pressed against the cool metal of Al's chest plate. He was cradling her in his arms as if she were a baby of two, and not a toddler of four. Despite Alphonse not having a real body anymore, nothing except his expressionless armour, Maes could still see the fascinated peace in the boy's soulfire eyes. When Al's helmet twitched in his direction, Maes smiled and pointed his thumb to Ed's room, indicating to the boy where he was going. Alphonse nodded and looked back to Elicia.

Walking quietly, Maes opened Ed's door and crept inside the quiet room. Edward was sprawled on the bed, his sheet tangled up in his limbs. His bangs were spread across his face, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. It always seemed to be like that when the poor kid slept. Maes was pretty sure the boy hadn't had a single nights peace for a long, long time. It hurt him inside to know that, but that was why he was here. To comfort the boy when he woke from his night terrors. It was such a simple task, yet, for Maes, it held a much deeper meaning. For him, it showed that Edward trusted him enough to allow him to be there when he was at his weakest, and Maes knew that for a person like Edward, that was not a privilege given away lightly. Coming closer to the sleeping boy, he could here him mumbling.

"No, leave me alone." Edward said, tossing in his bed and lying on his stomach, his hands stretched out in front of him, gripping his pillow tightly. "No, stop it!" He groaned, his bruised right shoulder twitching, as though flinching away. "Colonel, stop!" He cried out. "Stop it! Stop hitting me! I'll -" He stopped suddenly, as though he was being cut off by the man in his nightmares. Deciding he had let it go on for long enough already, Maes knelt down beside him, putting his hand on his arm and coaxing him awake. He didn't wake easily, not that he ever did, but it was particularly difficult this afternoon to help Edward escape his hauntings. Then, suddenly, the boy jumped awake, breathing heavily, his head moving from side to side, getting his bearings, as he did every time. Once he realized it was just Maes, he relaxed, and let Maes pull him into a hug. While he hated the circumstances that had allowed the boy to open up, he did enjoy being able to hold the boy close in his arms, and he liked being able to reassure Edward that all would be okay.

Yet he would trade all of that in a heartbeat to undo what had happened.

"Easy Edward." He said softly. "It's okay, you're awake now. It was just a dream."

"I know." Edward said quietly. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." Maes replied. "Come on, Gracia's cooking lunch, and we don't want to be late for that, do we?"

"No way." Edward said, leaning back out of the embrace, smiling, but Maes could see right through it. Even in his frightened, tired state, Edward still managed to put on his facade of cheerful security, and it saddened Maes that Edward had had to learn to do it. For God's sake, a twelve year old boy should not have to be so distrusting of everyone around him that he should have to do that, but then, maybe it wasn't distrust at all. Maybe he just didn't like people worrying about him. Now, that seemed a bit more like Edward, though the first theory wasn't too far off the money either. Still...

"Edward." Maes said sadly. "You might fool everyone else, but you can't fool me with that. What's wrong?" Edward looked taken aback for a moment, but he quickly composed himself and said:

"I lost control again today, Maes." The disgust in his voice was evident, and all Maes wanted to do was just hold him in his arms forever.

"How did it happen?" He asked softly.

"Some drunk guy tried to fight me, and I thought that I was aiming for a punch, but instead my claws came out and I nearly sliced off his face." Ed said.

"It's not your fault, Edward." Maes told him firmly.

"Yes it is!" The young boy insisted. "I should have been more in control than that! What if I'd lost control of everything, and changed completely? Then Alphonse would have seen what I am, and then what? He'd hate me. Besides, what if I'd killed the guy?"

"Edward, listen to me, you cannot keep blaming yourself for this. You're still learning to control it, you can't be faulted for slipping up every now and then. Besides, you didn't kill him, so it doesn't matter. And as for Al, I keep telling you, if he found out, he would not hate you. He's your brother, he wouldn't condemn you for it."

"I know he wouldn't, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't feel disgusted by what I am, condemnation or not! I can't let him know..." Edward trailed off, apparently and understandably not wanting to keep going on in that particular direction.

"It's alright, I haven't told anyone yet and I'll take it to my grave unless you give me permission to do otherwise, Edward." He promised. "But this is eating away at you, I can see it. I seriously think you'd be so much better off just telling him."

"I know, but I can't."

Knowing that there was nothing he could do to convince him otherwise, Maes nodded, getting to his feet and holding his hand out for Ed, who took it. He pulled Ed up and tried to keep his eyes off of the bruise Mustang had made on his shoulder. Leaving Edward to himself to get dressed, Maes walked out the door and shut it behind him. The smell of Gracia's cooking drifted to him, and he licked his lips. This morning, when he had woken up Edward from his screaming, he hadn't been able to get back to sleep, and as soon as the hour was reasonable he got dressed and headed straight for the office. He hadn't bothered to pause a moment for so much as a piece of toast, and his stomach was now letting him know how much it disagreed with that decision. But he had been so unsure, so confused, as to why Edward had been screaming Mustang's name in his nightmares, telling him to stop, and then as he left the house that confusion slowly bubbled to anger, and at Central Headquarters that anger had bubbled to fury. He was glad that Mustang had explained himself, but he was going to have to keep an eye on Edward a little bit more so as not to miss things like that.

As he had the thought, Ed's door opened and he came out, his shirt and trousers returned to their proper places on his body. The bruises under his eyes were huge, and while Maes knew that to be a product of not enough sleep, he also knew that it was something else. Edward's golden eyes used to burn with determination and cheerful defiance, but now they struggled to burn at all. It was as if they had been dulled. But the scariest thing was, that they hadn't been like that when he had found Edward in that basement. Then they had still had most of their old glow, but over the past couple of days, Edward's eyes had become like this. He could see that Edward was trying so hard to hide it from his little brother, and...Maes loved Alphonse just as much as he loved Edward, but he could see the strain his being here was putting on the older Elric. If Al hadn't arrived maybe Edward wouldn't have gotten so stressed again...

No, what was he thinking? Edward loved his brother more than he loved anyone else, if Al hadn't arrived then Edward would be even more miserable than he appeared to be now. Running his hand down his face, he thought to himself what am I going to do with those boys?

Lunch was amazing, of course. Gracia had cooked them steak again, and Edward was digging into it like a starving wolf might dig into a corpse. As soon as the thought passed through his head, he flinched. Edward was a wolf, in a sense. Or at least, he could change into one. Edward would have become deeply upset by what Maes had thought, so he kept his opinions to himself and just let the hungry child eat. His mind wandered to the files Edward had given him, and the theories he'd come up with. None of them were exactly groundbreaking, but at east he had something. He had the rest of his team working on all of the other files recovered while he worked solely on Edward's. So far he'd discovered the same thing as Mustang, that in every one of the photos, seemingly by accident, you could see blue military uniform. Both of them had come to the agreement that until they knew who it was, they would not report their findings to the brass. Maes also had a few members of his team working on finding links between all of the victims (that's what they were being called for now). There had to be some kind of connection as to why these people in particular had been chosen to be experimented on, and Maes was determined to find it. Whatever had linked Edward to these people had a great deal to do with why he had been selected to endure this. He knew it. So far they'd turned up nothing, but Maes was hopeful.

"Hey, Hughes, you there?" Maes realized Edward was talking to him, and he quickly snapped his thoughts back to the present.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" He asked.

"I said that Mustang found a lead for me to look up." Ed told him.

"That's cool, where is it?"

"In a town towards the East, I can't remember the name right now though. I'm heading up there in a few hours, and thought I'd better let you know." Ed said.

"Oh yeah? Who're you chasing?" Maes asked instead of what he wanted to ask, which was, why have you only told me this now?

"Some guy called Tim Marcoh."

"Tim Marcoh?" Maes said, the name rattling a memory in his head. "You mean Marcoh the Deserter?"

"That's the one."

"Why are you looking for him?"

"He was a State Alchemist, and Mustang said that he was experienced in Human Alchemy. I'm hoping he can give me some information that'll help me get Al's body back."

"Oh, and is Alphonse going with you?" He asked, curious, because Edward had said I'm.

Edward said "No," at the exact same time Alphonse said "Yes." They both turned to look at each other, and Maes almost missed Edward's middle finger twitch. "Of course I'm going with you, brother." Alphonse said. "We're a team."

"Al, you can't come with me on this one, okay?" Edward said, and Maes could hear him struggling to keep calm.

"Why not?" Al asked, his metal suit trembling slightly.

"Because this one I have to do myself. I promise it's not dangerous."

"Neither was going to the library, but you still got kidnapped!" Alphonse yelled, jumping up from the table. "Nowhere is truly safe, brother, and how am I supposed to protect you if I'm not there?" As the words were said Maes knew that he'd said the wrong thing. Edward despised having to be protected, and there was nothing he hated more than the idea of being protected by his little brother. Maes knew that Edward felt as if he had to shoulder everything, for the simple reason that he was the eldest and thought it was his job.

"I don't need you to protect me!" Edward screamed, jumping up from the table as well. Elicia made a frightened noise as the table rattled, and Edward looked guiltily at her. "Sorry, Elicia." He said softly. "It's okay now, we're done fighting." And with that, Edward left the table. Alphonse called out to him that it was far from over, following, and, with a quick look at Gracia, Maes got up quietly and followed the boys, shaking his head. How could Edward possibly think that his brother would let him go anywhere without him?

"Edward I'm not letting you go anywhere on your own!" Alphonse shouted down at his brother.

"You don't get to make the choice, Al!" He shouted back. "I'm the oldest, so you have to do what I say!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!"

They fought childishly like that for a little bit before Maes' eyebrow finally twitched in annoyance and he shouted "Boys!" Both of them stopped fighting and looked his way, and he huffed. "Maybe neither of you get to make the decision." He said.

"What do you mean?" The asked in unison.

"I mean that maybe I'm the one who gets to decide what happens." He told them, and he saw Edward's eyes widen.

"No, you can't make me take him..." He whispered, and that familiar fear crept back into his voice.

"Edward." He said, moving closer to the boys and sitting cross-legged on the floor next to them. Both of them followed suit, and Maes continued. "I know why you don't want to take Alphonse on this, I do, but just listen to me for a minute, please?" Ed nodded, and Maes smiled. "Thanks. Now, I get why you don't want Al to come, but try and think of why Al wants to come. He hasn't seen you in almost three months, and he's been worried sick about you that whole time. You've known that he was safe, but he hasn't had that same reassurance. He just got here last night, and now you want to leave without him. Think about how that makes Al feel."

"Brother?" Alphonse said, when Ed was silent.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you want me to come?"

Edward's lip trembled, and he looked back over at Maes for help. With a look Maes told him that he couldn't help this one, and Edward looked back to the floor. "I..." He stuttered, trying to find something to say. "I don't want...I don't want you to..."

Edward never got to finish, because at that moment the phone rang. Gracia answered it, and after a moments pause, called out that it was for him. He got up and gently took it from her, cradling it next to his ear and stating his name and rank.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, this is Second Lieutenant Ross."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant." He said.

"We found the connection between the victims whose files we found in the basement." She said, and Maes could have sworn her voice trembled slightly.

"What is it?" He asked nervously.

"They're all ex military. Supposedly dead soldiers, from Ishval."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'll take it  
> Wait now  
> By the sidewalk  
> Hold on  
> Yes, I'll be right back.  
> I can't win.
> 
> ~I Can't Win (The Strokes)

Edward was travelling through a white void. Thousands of tiny little black hands with arms as long as infinity were pulling him back through the Gate. He watched as he was pulled backwards into it, and he watched as the Truth smiled at him, with that terrible grin that chilled him to the bone. Alphonse had already left this place, but he had remained. When he and his little brother had come here, in immeasurable amount of time ago, and Edward had offered up a Philosopher's Stone to the Truth in exchange for his brother's body, it had laughed and granted him his wish, taking the Stone from him. Alphonse's armour had begun to disintegrate, and when there was none of it left, a second Gate, on the other side of the void, something he had not noticed before, had opened up, and Edward watched as Al's malnourished body was pulled through it. He had waited for himself to be pulled back through as well, but it had not happened.

When Alphonse was finally gone, the Truth, who had been watching him, turned back to Ed. "You are aware that that price alone is not enough, aren't you?" It had asked. Edward exhaled slowly; he had known, somewhere deep down, that his blood and sweat and pain and the Stone would never be enough for this cruel being in front of him. He had been hoping, praying, the by returning the trapped souls within the Stone to where the belonged after death would be enough, would be a fair price in exchange for his brother's flesh and blood, but of course he was wrong. He always seemed to be these past few months.

"I figured it wouldn't be." He said.

"And yet you came anyway. You're devotion to your brother truly is admirable, Edward Elric. You have a very strong heart."

"Well thank you." He said, waiting.

"Are you ready to hear what the rest of the price is?" Truth asked him. "If it's too much, I can easily bring your brother back and return his armour to him."

"Nothing is too much for my brother." Edward said defiantly. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." Truth said. "Your price is..."

"Edward!"

Ed leapt forward, his claws ready to slice and dice. Fear surged through him at the dream, or was it a memory? Please don't let it all be a dream, please don't let it all be a dream! he begged the universe. Breathing heavily, he realized that he was sitting on cold hard dirt, and he was surrounded by white lines and circles and symbols made of chalk. Barely a meter away, Alphonse lay beside him, no longer a suit of armour, but a little eleven year old boy, with golden hair below his shoulders and skin that was pale, and malnourished, but it was his flesh and blood body! And he was breathing! It had been years since he had seen it, but his brother had breath again, and all of Edward's worries slipped away as he barged past whoever was calling out his name to hold his brother in his arms. His claws slid back into his fingers, and he could feel his baby brother's skin on his own fingers.

"Alphonse! Al, can you hear me? Al?" Gently, he shook his little brother awake, and when those eyelids opened to reveal golden orbs a fraction darker than his own, he could have screamed with joy. Thank God it wasn't all just a dream!

"Br-brother?" Alphonse asked weakly, his voice throaty.

"I'm here, Al." Edward promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I can...I can feel again, brother." Alphonse said, and a great big smile lit up his face. "I can smile! And...and your skin feels so warm...I'm hungry...I want food...I can eat food again!"

"Yeah, you can, Al." He said, and he felt tears slide down his face as he pulled his brother into a tight embrace. A hand touched his shoulder, and he flinched.

"It's only me, Ed." Hawkeye said.

"Lieutenant, when did you get here?" He asked.

"I followed you boys here because I thought it was suspicious that you'd been coming here for the last few days without explanation." Her voice was stern at first, but it softened as she said, "I'm glad I did. Now I'm the first one other than you who gets to know what Alphonse looks like."

"Hi...Lieutenant..." Alphonse said, smiling at her. Edward watched as her eyes glowed, and then became shiny with tears that threatened to leak out. Quickly, she wiped them away, and then she picked up Alphonse out of Edward's arms.

"Edward, we should get Al to a hospital." She said. He wanted to snatch his little brother back from her, and carry him there himself, but already he could feel his chest burning as he stood up, and he new that the Truth's price had been steep. He didn't have the strength to carry Al right now without falling down himself, so he would just have to trust Hawkeye.

"Yeah." He said, nodding. They began to run, Ed struggling to keep up with her brisk pace. He noted with some jealousy that Al had already fallen asleep in her arms. Not that that mattered, but still, Edward couldn't help but feel betrayed somehow. As they ran, the joy of having Al back in his real body started to somehow wear off, as though it wasn't a big deal. He fought to keep it there, but it seemed determined to slip away. The grin that had been plastered to his face faltered slightly, but he forced it to stay where it was. Of all possible times, why did his depression have to choose now to show itself? Cursing himself, he pushed his trembling legs forward, trying to keep up with the older woman. His chest kept burning, and the itching feeling a person gets right before they cough was starting to rise in his throat. Forgetting for a moment the price he'd payed in the tiring task of running through the streets of Central City, Edward indulged in the urge. At first it was a mild cough, but then it started to get worse, and soon he was kneeling on the ground, his chest racking.

"Edward!" Hawkeye said, alarmed. She stopped to ask him if he was okay but he flicked his hand at her, urging her to keep going.

"I'm fine!" He chocked briefly on the burning in his throat. "Keep moving, I'll catch up! I'm just really unfit right now!" He told her.

"Well, okay, but I'll come back for you." She said.

"Just get going!" He fought to keep the desperation out of his voice as he saw little flecks of red fly onto his palm. Please don't notice! Please don't notice! Please don't notice! He repeated in his head until she went away. Good. His body allowed him a few quick breaths before he started coughing again. His throat burned hot, and so did the blood that splashed onto his hand as he tried to cover it up. Now he knew how Teacher felt every time she coughed like this. It occurred to him that he hadn't even seen his teacher since he and Al had finished their training, and, as scary as the thought was, he thought he really ought to pay her a visit.

Slowly, the coughing fit subsided, but the damage had been done. His left glove was covered in blood. It would have to go. Taking off both of his gloves, he dropped them onto the ground. Quickly, he clapped his hands and visualized the array in his head. Pressing them to the bloodstained gloves, they turned to dust that blew away on the winds.

Hurriedly, he got to his feet and jogged slowly the rest of the way to the hospital. He had finally given his brother his body back. His ultimate goal was finally accomplished. A great surge of pride swelled in him. Now all that was left to do was go home.

But the thing was, he wasn't even sure where home was anymore. Was it at his old house, which was nothing but ashes? Was it the Rockbell house? Or was it in the apartment with Hughes?

Maybe it was none, maybe it was all. But he would figure that out later.

Without registering much of the things around him, he made his way to the hospital. The day was cold today, but he ignored it. He could hear people talking, and he presumed they were all talking about him. Short. Child. Dog. Whore. He was used to the words by now, constantly circulating around him wherever he went, but that didn't make them any less painful to hear. After all, he wasn't really all that short. In the past few months, since he'd lost his auto-mail, he'd actually grown an inch or two. He was incredibly pleased with himself. Maybe as far as age went, he was a child, but as far as his mental maturity went, he was more or less an adult. He was a dog of the military, but he was also part actual dog...wolf...whatever. But the name that hurt the most was 'whore'. He hadn't forgotten the night when Maes had told him what exactly a whore was, and it had been months, but he still could not for the life of him figure out why they called him that.

It dawned on him that he was now actually in the hospital, and he kindly asked the lady at the desk what room Alphonse Elric was in. After a few moments of checking, she gave him the room number, and he stumbled on. The itch in his throat was back already, but it wasn't nearly as annoying. When he found the room after a little bit of aimless wandering, he walked in to find Alphonse sitting up comfortably in a hospital bed, propped up by a few pillows. Two nurses were wandering about, checking things on clipboards and adjusting the I.V unit that was attached to Al's arm. There was a doctor who was asking Alphonse a few simple questions, and Al seemed to be answering them happily. Hawkeye was sitting on one of the little chairs, and she jumped up when Edward walked in.

"Ed!" She said. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry I took so long, Al." He said, brushing past her. "I ran out of breath. It's been a while since I've had to run like that."

"It's okay, brother." Alphonse said. Edward smiled at him. It had been so long since he'd seen his little brother's face, and now here it was, smiling up at him, after not even a year on their journey. Edward had expected it to be shorter, but he would not change it. Now that he had his brother back, he was content. He could live in peace now. He could quit the military now, just be a semi-normal kid, perhaps. Now that Alphonse was in his rightful body, he could do those things.

"So how do you feel, Al?" He asked gently.

"It's so...overwhelming." Alphonse said at last. "It's been so long since I've been able to feel things. I can't say the IV was fun." He laughed, glancing at it.

"I'll make sure that thing's out as soon as possible, Al." Edward promised. "Then we'll go home."

"But Edward..." Alphonse asked nervously.

"Yeah?"

"We burned our home."

"You know Winry and Granny would take us in, and if worst comes to worst we could always...go see...Teacher..." He said slowly, fear at seeing his teacher creeping up on him.

"She's gonna kill us when she finds out what happens..." Alphonse groaned.

"Hopefully she won't ever have to." He said.

"Excuse me?" Edward looked over to the doctor who had been asking Alphonse questions, and asked what was wrong. "Well, we still have a few tests to run, and we'd very much appreciate it if you could leave the room." He said. Edward looked back over to Al, not needing to voice his question.

"It's okay." Alphonse said. "Go back home, and I'll get someone to call you if I want you to come back, okay, Brother?"

"Sure...if you want." Edward said hesitantly. Giving his brother a gently tap on the arm, he smiled and turned around, leaving the room. There was nothing he could do right now except wait, anyway, so what did it matter whether it was here or at the Hughes' place? Sighing, he didn't notice the worried look that Hawkeye gave him as he left.

Walking through the streets again was tedious. He wished he was old enough to just drive a car. Then he wouldn't have to walk. Raising his eyes to the sky, he could see that a storm was coming soon. Ed picked up his pace and only just walked into the apartment building when the rain began. Whew, close call. He thought to himself numbly. Not bothering with the elevator, he went up the steps to the apartment, trying to get his face just right. He could imagine the look on Maes' face when he told him that he'd finally done it, he'd finally gotten Alphonse's body back. His face would light up, he would smile, his eyes would twinkle behind his glasses. At least, that was how Edward pictured it in his head. He needed to be happy like that, so why wasn't he? Why was it that the strongest thing he was feeling right now was exhaustion? No, that was unacceptable. He needed to be happy, like Al was. Why couldn't he be happy? He'd finally accomplished his goal, Goddammit, so why was he so numb?

Stretching his lips into the most realistic smile he could manage, he decided it would have to do. He couldn't stand outside this door forever, after all. Pulling out his key, he unlocked the door and went inside. Everything was dark, and quiet. There appeared to be no one home, but the Hughes' car was outside. He knew they were home. As quietly as he could, he tiptoed down the hall, his eyes raking the scene. But there was nothing to be found.

A scuffling to his left caught his attention, and Edward was about to make a blade from his auto-mail when he remembered he didn't have auto-mail anymore. He let the alchemic energy fall away into nothing, and instead raised his hands in a defensive position, the way Al used to when he was in his armour. It felt kind of nice, thinking that. He used to be in his armour. But he wasn't anymore. That was good. Nice. More movement brought his attention back to reality, and this time it was from his right. Damn, he was surrounded. This wasn't good. He could either make his move first, or wait for whoever was hiding to jump out at him. Dammit, where was Hughes? He wasn't supposed to be working today.

Suddenly all the lights came on at once, and his eyes didn't have the time to adjust. Blindly, he swung in a circle, one arm stretched out to hit anything that came close. When he struck nothing he pulled it back and blinked away the blindness. He could hear laughter, and suddenly people were popping out from random places. Heart pounding furiously in his chest, he saw the all the people were dressed in blue uniform.

"Surprise!" They all shouted.

"Dammit Hughes!" Edward gasped. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry Ed." Maes laughed, walking around the couch and slapping him on the back. But this was the best we could come up with when Hawkeye called and said you got Al back." His grin was manic, and Edward found himself laughing too.

"Sh-she t-told you?" He managed through laughs, as people surrounded him, patting him on the back and congratulating him. There was Gracia, and Elicia obviously, and Havoc, and Breda and Falman and Fuery, and even Mustang was there! He kept his distance from him, but that was just an old fear. Mustang hadn't been even remotely nasty to him since the day Edward had almost lost control and sliced a guy's face off. He had felt slightly more comfortable around the man since then, but he was still nervous. It was hard to break old habits.

"Good job, Fullmetal." Mustang said to him, once everyone had given him some space to breathe.

"Thanks, bastard." Edward said genuinely.

"Still at it with the nicknames?" Mustang asked, with fake sadness. "You wound me."

"I do my best." He joked.

He didn't hear what Mustang responded after that, because suddenly Hawkeye had walked in, with Alphonse leaning on her. The crowd cheered again, louder than ever, and Al winced slightly at the noise. Immediately everyone quieted down, and then people started, one at a time, to ask Alphonse questions, or to comment on how much of a cute kid he was. Alphonse blushed through the whole thing. "Come on, Al." Edwards said when he found the chance to speak. Let's sit you down here." He put his arm around his brother's waist and helped Hawkeye carry him to the couch. "Hey, I thought you said you were going to call." He said.

"Yeah, I lied." Alphonse laughed.

"Gee, thanks Al." Edward said sarcastically.

"Sorry, Ed," Hawkeye said, "But we all agreed that after everything you've been through it might be nice to be able to relax a bit. And before you start worrying, the doctors have said that Alphonse is completely fine. A bit malnourished, but that's easily fixed. You're little brother just needs to eat.

"Thanks, Hawkeye." Edward said quietly.

"Huh?"

"Thanks for following us this morning."

"No problem." She replied with a smile.

* * *

Later, after everyone had left, and Alphonse had fallen asleep on the couch, Edward was even more exhausted than before. Night was falling, and what he wanted was to crawl into bed and hope that the nightmares would leave him alone tonight. As he went through his nightly routines, he noticed that Maes was looking a little bit disturbed by something. "Maes, you okay?" He asked. Maes jumped a little when Edward addressed him, but re-composed himself quickly.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking." He said.

"About what?"

"Tonight you've been coughing a lot, are you okay?" He said. Edward was tempted to lie to him, to say that he just had a cold. Had he been talking to anyone else, he would have done so, but Maes would see right through it. Besides, he trusted Maes. Maes would never tell anyone if Edward didn't want him to.

"Not really." He said at last.

"What's wrong?"

"When the Truth finally gave Alphonse his body back this morning, the Philosopher's Stone I gave as payment wasn't enough." He said slowly.

"But I thought that was the whole point of finding the Stone, because it was supposed to be."

"I know. It was enough to pull Alphonse's body out of there, but the Truth wanted more payment for actually putting Al's soul back in the body.

"What did it want?" He asked.

"It's...difficult to explain. When a person tries Human Transmutation, the Truth takes away something ironic. For me, it was the leg I needed to stand on to support my brother. Al just wanted to feel mum's warmth again, so the Truth took away his body. When I tied Al's soul to the armour, I lost the limb I needed to fight for him."

"Okay, I think I get that, but you didn't answer my question Ed." Hughes said.

"I'm getting to it." He told him. "When we were at the Gate today, and Al was sent back home, the Truth told me it needed more payment. It knew that I loved Alphonse more than anyone else in the world. It said that I have a very strong heart."

"You do." Maes said.

"Yeah, well, not anymore."

"Why not anymore?"

"As payment for putting my brother's soul back in his body, the Truth seriously weakened my heart. As any doctor would know, severe heart failure can cause a build up of fluid in the lungs. It'll make me breathless for no active reason, which means that it's going to be so much harder to fight. The blood I'm coughing up can be explained by even a slight bleeding from anywhere in the respiratory system. When I cough it comes up and out with the mucus.

"Wait, blood?"

"Yeah, I've coughed some of that up a few times today."

"Should we take you to the doctor?"

"No, it's not something they can fix." He said, shaking his head.

"Will it kill you?" He asked, his voice filled with worry.

"I have absolutely no idea. Maybe, maybe not. I don't think so though. How am I supposed to learn my lesson if I'm dead?"

"I suppose not..." Maes sighed, pulling his glasses off of his face and cleaning them absently with a cloth. They were both silent as he did, and when he was done, he put them back on his head and pulled Edward into one of his hugs. "You poor kid." He said. "You just can't seem to win."


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... hate... you...  
> That's an understatement  
> I... hate... you...  
> For who you are
> 
> I hate you
> 
> ~100 Ways To Hate (Five Finger Death Punch)

It was the day of Edward's thirteenth birthday that it all went wrong.

"Happy Birthday Edward!" Everyone screamed, as Edward blew out the candles on his cake. They all cheered as he closed his eyes and made his wish. I wish that Alphonse will always stay safe, no matter what. Even if I have to sacrifice myself. Opening his eyes, he smiled out at the faces of his friends. Winry and Granny had come all the way to Central to celebrate this with him, and he was grateful. It just wouldn't be a birthday without Winry there. Beside them was Alphonse, his golden eyes wide as he cheered. Next to him was Hughes, Elicia and Gracia. Mustang and his team were here as well, including Hawkeye, who, six months after initially cutting it, still kept her hair beautifully short.

"What was you're wish, Edward?" Alphonse asked.

"I can't tell you that, Al, or it won't come true!" Edward laughed.

"Aww." Al pouted a little, but it went away as quickly as it had come when Gracia took a knife from the kitchen drawer and started cutting the cake into slices, Edward receiving the biggest piece. The cake was chocolate, and Edward had it eaten within seconds, finishing far before everyone else. "You're a guts, Ed." His little brother said, as Edward went to grab his second piece of cake.

"No more after that, Ed, or you'll get sick." Maes said kindly. Edward responded with incomprehensible nonsense through a mouth stuffed to the brim. Maes turned faintly green, and Edward nearly choked from laughter.

"So Ed," Winry asked, "What are we gonna do today?"

"I have no idea, Win." Edward answered truthfully.

"How about we go to the new park?" Hawkeye suggested. "I heard the lake there is crystal clear, and you can see every single fish."

"That sounds pretty cool." Al said.

"Yeah, okay." Edward agreed with them. Going to a park to look at fish wasn't exactly his idea of an awesome time, but if Alphonse wanted to then he would.

"We should be careful, though." Breda said. Everyone looked at him with varying looks of questioning, and he elaborated. "I heard there were some thugs hanging around in that general area. If we're going there, it'd be a good idea for at least two of us to have our guards up. A place like that would be the perfect spot for them to target rich people admiring the view."

"Um, sir?" Fuery spoke up, in that timid voice Edward had come to associate with him. Mustang nodded, and he continued. "I promised my older sister I'd fix her radio today, I don't think I'll be able to come. Sorry, Ed." He looked down, but Edward just smiled.

"No problem." Ed and Mustang said simultaneously. It had been so long since Mustang had hurt Ed, so the older Elric was feeling almost back to normal around the man. They both laughed when they realized they'd said the same thing, and Edward decided that if there was going to be any more problems with the man, they would have happened by now.

"And I have a date to go on." Havoc said, the tone of his voice asking the question for itself. By the time twenty minutes had passed, all Mustang's team bar Mustang himself and Hawkeye had gone. That left three people guarding six. Maes stayed closer to Ed, Gracia and Elicia, Hawkeye watched with a longing look in her eyes as Alphonse and Winry talked about whatever things eleven-year-old's talked about, and Mustang was engaged in some sort of conversation with Granny Pinako. Edward stayed silent throughout the whole walk, not really thinking about anything in particular, but about a lot of random things. However, on this happy day, surrounded by his friends and family, Ed's mind kept swirling back to that day in the library again. He hadn't thought about it for weeks, yet for some reason right now it kept plaguing him. Perhaps it was prolonged contact with Mustang? Who knew, but Edward's mind worked in strange ways.

As they passed by an alleyway, Edward caught a glint of something in the small light, and stopped for a moment. His eyes picked out a shadow flitting across the back wall, but when Maes asked him what he was looking at, he dismissed it, thinking that his brain must have been playing tricks on him. He was able to rationalize this thought by the fact that his throat was itching like crazy, and his chest felt tight. He was burning to cough. Just a little, to get rid of that pesky itch, but he held back. From past experience, he knew that if he started coughing now, he wouldn't be able to stop, and very quickly he'd have to endure the questions from everyone except Maes as to why there was blood staining his gloves and his lips. It was better to just wait until he was alone to indulge.

"Wow, you were right Hawkeye!" Alphonse exclaimed when they finally made it to the park. "You really can see the fish through the water!" And Al wasn't lying. The water was so clear that he could almost make out the rocks at the very bottom. He could see so many different types of fish swimming around; some in schools, some in pairs, and some all on their lonesome. Edward thought that the ones by themselves had a sad kind of look in their eyes, and instantly felt that he could identify with the swimming creatures. Despite being surrounded by friends, he always felt alone. Suddenly he felt a huge pressure between his shoulder blades, and the next thing he knew he was flying into the water. As he went under, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to hold his breath, but water managed to get in anyway. Spluttering, he swum to the surface, and gasped for air. Alphonse and Winry and Elicia were all laughing their heads off, but the adults looked much more concerned. Maes looked about ready to jump in the water after Ed. When he could breathe again, Ed started laughing.

At first the water had felt freezing, but now it felt nice. And the water that had ran down his throat had gotten rid of the itching. "Come on!" He shouted to Al and Winry. "The water's awesome!" Within seconds they had stripped off their shoes and jackets and had jumped in the water with him. For a while they played like that, just little kids splashing water at each other. It felt nice, and Edward was glad that he'd came here. For once things seemed to be looking up for him.

"Hey, kids, get out of the water!" Gracia called to them after what felt like hours. "It's getting cold, you'll catch pneumonia!"

"Coming Mrs Hughes!" All three of them called together, and they giggled as they swum back to shore and hauled themselves out of the water. As soon as he was on dry land, Edward realized that she was right; it was indeed getting cold. He shivered as he stripped off his soaking shirt and Maes placed his military jacket over his shoulders. Freezing, Edward buttoned it up tight. His shoes felt mushy on his feet, and he took them off, deciding it was better to go barefoot than to wear them. Beside him, Winry had already taken her top off and hastily zipped her jacket back up, and Alphonse had done the same. "Hey, where'd Hawkeye go?" Edward asked Maes when he realized that the woman was gone.

"She went to buy us some hot food." He said. "Elicia went with her."

"Oh, okay." He replied. "Hey, Al, you wanna-" He turned back to his brother, but he was gone. "Al, where are you?" He called. No reply came, and a quick glance at Hughes told him the man had no idea where his little brother was, and, apparently, neither did anyone else. "Al!" He shouted, looking around in a panic. His brother had been right there. Where could he have gone?

"Mustang, check over there!" He heard Hughes ordering his superior. "I'll check this side, he can't have gone far!" His voice betrayed the reassurance he tried for, and quickly Hughes ran across to one side of the park while Mustang ran speedily to the other. Pinako, Gracia and Winry had huddled together, and Winry was calling for Ed to come to her, but his attention was no longer with her, because he had seen a glint of something behind a tree roughly fifteen meters from where he was standing. The glint of sunlight off of a knife, and...off of golden hair.

Without thinking, Edward ran towards it. "Don't move, kid, or this one gets it!" A man suddenly jumped out from behind the tree, the knife to Alphonse's throat. All the colour had drained from his little brother's face, and he was shaking all over. His eyes were wide with fear, but his irises had shrunk to something so tiny in his terror. There was a small bruise forming beside his left eye, and Edward's blood boiled with rage. How dare this man hurt his little brother! His legs froze, and the man smiled. "That's it, don't move."

"Drop your weapon immediately!" Hughes' voice rang out from too far away, and Edward knew without looking that his gun was drawn. "Hurt him and I'll shoot!"

"Hand over all your valuables, and I'll let him go." The man's grin at the prospect of goods stretched across his face, the top half covered with some sort of ski mask. But it didn't hide his eyes, which were the colour of filthy mud. Silence met the demand, and Edward could hear Winry sobbing quietly. He could feel the stares of everyone behind him, burning into him and into Al and into the man who held his brother at knife-point. How had this day gone so badly wrong so Goddamn quickly? Why couldn't he just have a birthday free of stress and danger and the imminent threat of death. The sound of a chinking watch broke the quiet, and Gracia's anniversary gift Maes had given her fell to the ground with a thud. It was followed by her necklace and her earrings. Dammit, where was Hawkeye? If she were here, Al would be safe, and the guy would have been dead already, because she would have shot him in an instant.

Winry's earrings came off next, the ones he had given her, and then whatever jewelry Granny was wearing. They dropped it all onto the ground, and the man laughed. "Good, and now, drop the guns. I can see that you're a Lieutenant Colonel, and over there, a Colonel. Drop the guns and let me take the stuff, and then I'll let this kid go."

"Not a chance, drop the knife or I'll shoot your brains out!" Edward was surprised to hear Mustang say the words, but the surprise was drowned out by the fear all too quickly.

"Not gonna happen." The man said. Rage coursed through Edward, stronger than anything he had ever felt before, and all he wanted to do was to tear this man into a hundred thousand tiny little ribbons with his claws. He could feel the change easing up on him, and he fought with everything he had to keep it back. The last thing he needed right now was to lose control. No, he couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let the rage control him. He was better than that. He had to be. Not since his training in the laboratory nine months ago had he allowed the change to take him over completely, and his skin was burning to let it happen. His claws were fighting to break free, fighting to tear the man's throat out of his back. But he couldn't. Not with Al in the way.

"Let him go." He whispered. He could hear the bloodlust in his own voice, and it terrified him. But not as much as the thought of having his brother murdered before his eyes. "Let my brother go so I can tear you apart."

"Edward..." He heard Maes' cautioning voice behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to listen.

"You let him go!" He roared. "If you wanna draw blood with that knife, try drawing some of mine!"

"That's it, this kid's about to die." The man said casually. Edward saw a the man's wrist move ever-so-slightly, and Edward exploded into action without thinking.

Before the knife ever even got close to Al's skin, it was buried deep in Edward's hand. "What?" The man sputtered as he flew through empty space. Edward roared and sprung up into the air, his wolf legs giving him extra spring as he wrapped his hand around the man's wrist, his claws almost slicing it into bits. The man screamed in agony as the hit the ground, and Ed heard several bones shattering. Sick satisfaction flowed through him and he wondered what the man's face looked like under that mask. But instead of tearing it off, he shredded it to bits over the mans head. As the fabric scattered blood burst from the wounds, and Edward saw nothing interesting about the face of the man who had tried to kill his brother. This remembrance only fueled his rage even further, and he started throwing punches aimed at the disgusting piece of shit's worthless face.

His eyesight was hazed with a red blur, and all he wanted to do was murder the man. And in this state, there was nothing stopping him. The bloodied and battered body was bleeding and writhing beneath him, and Edward could think of nothing else than killing him. He didn't register Alphonse's screams, or Winry's crying, or even Maes screaming at him to stop. All he knew was that this man had to die. Picking him up by the shoulders, Edward threw him in the air again, and his body hit a tree with a meaty thud. Ed had thrown him a good fifteen meters, but he closed that distance barely two seconds and was pounding in to him again.

A sudden bang interrupted his murderous rage for a moment, and that bang was followed by a searing pain in his shoulder. He cried out in pain and turned around to see a completely composed Hawkeye pointing her gun at him. A growl reverberated in his throat as the urge to tear the gun from her hand passed through him, but he didn't allow himself. If he got too close he might kill her, and the only one he wanted to kill was this man beneath him.

"No, don't shoot him!" Maes shouted, running to her and ripping the gun away from her for him.

"Why not!" She cried. "If I don't it'll kill that man!"

"That man just tried to kill Alphonse!" Maes screamed.

"But where is Edward?" She shouted.

"You just shot him!" Maes roared, and Edward could see the man was restraining the urge to hit her. Just like Edward had. Shock covered her features, and the look of mixed horror and disgust on her face was enough to break Edward out of his trance. With a sick revulsion, he looked down slowly at the man he had mauled, and realized with a heart-stopping lurch that he was barely even breathing. Ragged, uneven gasps were all that could be heard from him, and it was a miracle the man hadn't died at Ed's hands already.

"Oh God..." He whispered. "Oh God!" With horror he jumped away from the dying body, and he landed too far away for a real human to have made. He was a monster, and he had almost killed a human being. "What have I done?" The change slipped away from him, and he at least looked human now. He was covered in blood, and it stained his skin and Maes' jacket. Curling up into a ball, he felt the tears flow down his face, and he did nothing to stop them. What did it matter now, anyway? He was so weak that he couldn't even stop himself from showing everyone the beast that hid inside him anyway, so some tears couldn't make it worse any more. Footsteps ran towards him, and the ground thudded as someone dropped to their knees beside him, and wrapped their arms around him.

"Easy, Edward, it's okay." Maes said softly.

"No it's not." He sobbed. "Look at what I did! I killed him!"

"No you didn't, Edward, he's still alive. Only barely, but he's still alive."

"I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't control it." He cried.

"And it's a good thing, too." Maes said, not a trace of doubt in his voice. "If you had been able to Alphonse would be dead right now. You saved him Ed, you saved your brother."

"But look what I did..."

"Forget that." Maes said sternly, and Edward lifted his head slightly to look at him. His face was strained, but his eyes were fierce. "Do not blame yourself for this, Ed, if he didn't want to get hurt, he shouldn't have put a knife to the brother of Edward Elric, understood?" Reluctantly, Edward nodded. He didn't believe Maes for a second; he knew it was his fault. But if it made the older man feel better, then he would at least pretend to. He owed him that much. "Good." Maes said. "Come on, up you get." Offering his hand, Hughes pulled a shaking Edward to his feet. Together, they walked slowly back to the group. Edward couldn't bring himself to look at them, though, because he knew what he would see: horror, disgust, hatred. So instead he pulled Hughes' jacket tightly around himself and concentrated his gaze on his trembling arms. Of course, Mustang was the first to speak.

"What the Hell was that, Elric?" He said. Edward flinched away from his voice. As he had suspected, it was filled to the brim with revulsion. Ed opened his mouth to answer the man, but found the had had no words to speak. He didn't know what he was even supposed to say, so instead he said nothing. "Well, are you going to answer me?" He demanded. He sounded angry. No, angry wasn't the word. He sounded like he was barely containing his fury.

"Give him a break, Roy!" Maes snapped. "Don't you know he's been through Hell?"

"Maybe if he would talk to me, I would know!" Mustang countered.

"And maybe if you hadn't hit him he would trust you enough to say something!" Edward's head snapped up.

"Y-you knew?" He whispered. "You knew he'd been h-hitting me?" Maes looked down at him in surprise.

"Wait...hitting? He hit you more than just the once?" He asked, and Ed saw his fist clench. Edward didn't need to say anything more. "You...lying...bastard!" He screamed, and in a split second his fist had connect with Mustang's face, and Mustang was lying on the ground. "Once! You promised me it was only once!" He jumped down to the ground and perched himself over Mustang, and hit him in the face again. "How dare you! How fucking dare you!" Again and again Maes hit Mustang, until there was blood dripping from his forehead.

"Stop Maes." Edward said suddenly, surprising himself. Maes complied, turning around and looking back up.

"Why should I?" He asked, his voice even more strained than his face.

"You could get court martialled for assaulting a superior officer." Ed said. "I'm not worth all that trouble."

"Yes you are, Ed." Maes said, and, with one final, nose-breaking punch, he got to his feet and brushed the dirt off of himself. "You're worth a lot more than you think."

"No, I'm not worth you losing your job. Why do you think I didn't tell you?" He dropped his voice a little bit when he said "Because I had a feeling you'd react like this. You are aware you just broke your best friend's nose, aren't you?"

"Yup. I feel a little better, now, though." Edward had to admit, he did feel a little less like worthless dirt now. It always amazed him how Hughes seemed to have the power to do that for him.

"E-Edward?" Granny's terrified voice broke him out of the small piece of happiness he'd managed to find. He'd forgotten all about them all being here. "What is this? What are you?"

"Granny-" He whispered, taking a step towards her and Winry. Both of them took a step back from him. He froze. He'd been afraid of this, been so afraid of this very reaction to what he was. He had known it would happen, had always known, that was why he had worked so hard to hide it from them, after all, so that they would never have to be so afraid of him. So that they would never step away in fear. He had known, yet, all the same, it felt like such a deep betrayal when they did. His hands shook, and his eyes filled with tears. His pounding heart clenched in his chest. "Please..."

"Stay away Edward!" Granny cried. "I won't let you come close enough to hurt anyone else."

"No please...I would never..." His knees suddenly felt like lead weights, and he came crashing down to the soft grass beneath him.

"Dr. Rockbell, that's enough." He heard Maes say. "Ed would never hurt you."

"Didn't you see what he did?" She shouted, waving her hand a the man Ed mauled. "Look at the man!"

"I didn't mean to hurt him!" Edward screamed, shaking his head. "I just wanted to save Al..." All he'd wanted to do was save his little brother, so how did this go so wrong? Where had it all gone to Hell? Why did it have to? Hadn't he payed enough in his life? Why was he still paying for his mistakes? Wasn't his arm and his leg enough? Wasn't Al's body enough? Why wasn't the Stone enough? Why wasn't his heart enough? Why couldn't life just hand him a break and wave goodbye? When mum had died he had thought that he and Al had nothing more to lose, but they had been so very wrong. At least, Edward had. Alphonse had payed the highest toll that first time. Now it was Edward's turn to keep paying. His body wasn't even human any more, he could barely keep his rage in check, he was constantly fighting away at the depression that was eating him from the inside out, and beyond that his physical heart was close to being useless. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. "This isn't fair Goddammit! Why am I still paying for everything?!"

Suddenly his throat felt like it had swallowed boiled gold, and he pitched forward, coughs racking his body. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. His vision had gone fuzzy as he coughed up blood into his hand. His abdomen was screaming at him, trying to relax itself, his lungs were burning, his throat was on fire. His heart was pounding faster than a car, and still he couldn't breathe. The blood kept coming out of his mouth, staining his lips but sliding right off his teeth like water. It was the only thing in his mouth he could taste, just that metallic, coppery taste that made him want to throw up.

"Hawkeye, go get a bottle of water!" He heard Maes order the woman, but he sounded so far away, like there was miles between them, even though Edward knew he was kneeling right beside him. He felt the man's hand begin to rub circles on his back, and he felt the coughing fit start to ease. It was a technique Maes had been using since Edward had told him about the cough, the day he'd gotten Al's body back. He didn't have the faintest idea how it worked, but somehow the action always seemed to banish the cough and lock it away in it's coffin.

When he could breathe again, he choked "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it." Maes whispered.

"Al..." Edward said. "Where's Al? Is he okay?"

"I'm right here, brother." Al's timid voice carried across to him. He was standing in the same spot he had been in when the man had almost killed him. Al made toward them, and Edward thought that maybe he didn't hate him after all.

"Alphonse, don't go near it!" Pinako cried, grabbing Alphonse by the sleeve of his jacket before he could get too close, and Edward's heart sank. It. She had called him an it. That cut deeper than her fear of him, somehow. Because it meant that he was so far below human that he didn't even deserve a gender pronoun. So that was how much dirt he'd become...

"Let me go!" Al cried. "He's my brother! He's hurt, let me go!"

"No, stay here Al!" Winry hadn't spoken so far, but now she did, and Edward's heart shattered again. Granny, with her old, suspicious ways, he could understand, but Winry...

"Let me go!" Alphonse screamed at them, but even after six months, he was still physically weak, and he couldn't overpower the both of them, with their death-grips on his arms.

"No, Al, it's okay." Edward whispered, his voice sounding cold and detached to his own ears. "After all, I could hurt you..."

"Edward..."

"They're right. I'm dangerous. A monster." He said, looking up to stare at his brother, whose golden eyes were wide with fright at his brother's cold words. "Don't come closer. Listen to them. Didn't you see what I did? It's not safe to play with wolves, Alphonse, so why play with this one?"

"But you're not a wolf..." Al whispered. "You're a human..." His brother's denial of what he was only served to madden Edward, somehow. Why couldn't he be like this? Why was he so insistent that his brother was nothing but a regular human? Because he didn't want a half-breed for a brother, that's why. Because he couldn't stand to be related to such a beast.

"Look at me, Al." Edward growled, struggling to his feet. In an instant, he changed. He let his fur sprout, his muzzle lengthen, his claws grow. He let the real monster out, just to prove a point. Edward hated himself, but he was so sick...so tired...of lying. "I am a monster. They made me like this. They combined me with a wolf in an experiment and this was the result. A half human thing. A wolf chimera. Can you handle that, little brother, can you handle it?"

"Edward, that's enough." Maes said beside him, and Edward let the wolf slip away again. He could see the pure terror on his brother's face, and it drove him beyond the brink. It pushed him off the edge of whatever he had left. He let it take over, the Edward that didn't feel emotion. The Edward that could sit there for hours and think about nothing and everything all at once. He was so, so tired, and he didn't want it to fight any more. He let the depression take him over.

Blankly, he sat down on the grass again, and wrapped Maes' jacket around himself tighter. In the distance, he could hear sirens. The kind that belonged to an ambulance, and the kind that belonged to the military police. Oh, they were going to lock him up? That was nice. At least in a prison cell he couldn't hurt anybody. Couldn't be a danger. Maybe Mustang would even send him to a lab, so that the other State Alchemists could dissect him. Well, at least my wish came true. Alphonse is safe, and I managed to sacrifice myself to get the job done. Numbly, he wondered what they'd find...


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you're tired of running  
> You're tired of hurting  
> You're tired of living in their lie  
> You're tired of listening  
> You're tired of hurting  
> Keep your sadness alive, alive, alive
> 
> Don't you know, the misery loves company  
> Yeah I heard, the misery was looking for me  
> Happiness is a face that don't look good on me  
> Yeah I heard, that misery comes looking for me
> 
> ~Misery (Good Charlotte)

Colonel Mustang stood rigid in the Fuhrer's office, with Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes to his right and Major Edward Elric to his left. Maes' fists were clenched and shaking, and his eyebrows were furrowed deeply. Edward's entire body was shaking, as much as he tried to suppress it. He was still wearing the Lieutenant Colonel's bloodstained jacket, and Mustang couldn't help but feel that the jacket itself would do nothing but hinder his case. Mustang himself was the only one of the three that was completely collected and calm. At least, he was on the outside. On the inside was a storm. Confusion, anger, fear, were only a few of the emotions swimming around in his head. Not to mention the slight intimidation by the fact that he was standing in front of Fuhrer King Bradley himself, as well as General Grumman, Roy's Commanding Officer, and General Hakuro, Maes' Commanding Officer.

"So, Fullmetal Alchemist, care to explain?" The Fuhrer said.

"I...I..." Edward stuttered. His golden orbs flickered past Mustang to Maes for support, and they were filled with fear. There was a faint sheen to his eyes, and Mustang could see he was on the verge of crying.

"It happened down in the underground laboratory, sir." Maes said. "The alchemists down there-"

"I didn't ask you, Lieutenant Colonel." Bradley interrupted coldly. "I want to hear it from Fullmetal." Maes stopped talking, but Mustang knew his best friend too well. It would be taking great restraint on Maes' part to keep his mouth shut and do as his Fuhrer told him to. "Major?"

Sweat was beginning to drip down Edward's forehead, and he was fumbling over words like a three year old who'd been caught stealing candy. One of his left fingers twitched, and Mustang was sure he'd seen, for a split second, the tip of a claw protruding from the fingertip before Edward regained control and pulled it back.

"Please, sir, let me explain." Maes pleaded. "It's not exactly an easy memory for him."

"No. Fullmetal, you have three seconds, or I'll have to force it out of you." Mustang didn't think Edward would respond, but, within two of the given three seconds, he'd began to slowly recall his tale. For a while, his voice had been trembling as he spoke, but, then, abruptly, it went blank and emotionless. Right after it did, he told them of the first Transmutation. Right from the start, Roy had been more than a little horrified by what he was hearing. It was one thing to read about rape, but it was another thing completely to have the tale told directly from the youth's lips. A chill swept up his spine as Edward was forced to delve into detail about the Transmutations. The pain, Edward described as not even comparable to auto-mail surgery. His body had literally been fused with another creature. A wolf. His insides and outsides had to be altered to adapt to the new presence. He'd been torn apart from the inside out. Mustang couldn't even imagine how that must have felt. Still, the idea the Fullmetal was kind of a dog held some appeal to him.

Fifteen minutes passed in this fashion, and Edward finally stopped. His entire body was shaking terribly, and it must have been too much, because he fell to his knees, his head hanging. Maes rushed to catch him before he fell, knocking Mustang sideways in the process. Had Mustang been anyone else, he could have had Maes demoted for that. But he ignored it. He may not have understood what drove Maes to be so fatherly towards someone he wasn't even related to, but he did understand his friend's insistence on helping everyone who needed helping. So he let it be. Still trembling, Edward shook his head when the Fuhrer asked him if he was finished. Taking a deep breath, he kept going, from where he'd left off right up to the point where Maes had rescued him. When asked why he kept all of this information a secret, he answered simply: "I was afraid."

"Of what?" General Grumman asked. Unlike Bradley's his voice was a lot kinder. Slowly, Edward raised his head to look at the General.

"What are you going to do with me now that you know what I am?" Edward asked. There was something in his voice...as though he'd asked himself the question more times than could be counted. And as though he already knew the answer. The question caught everyone in the room off of their guard; even Fuhrer Bradley seemed unsure of what to say. His lips parted after a moment to give an answer, but Edward beat him to it. "I'll be sent to some other lab to be studied. You'll want to know everything about me, now. My money's on dissection. Probably Lab Number Two, right? That's where all the bio-alchemic research goes down, after all. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not." Bradley said, after a brief pause.

"Then that's why I'm afraid." Ed said, his tone defeated despite being proven right.

"Sir, surely there's some other alternative." Maes pleaded, facing his county's leader with the desperate eyes of a father Hell bent on protecting his son. "He's just a kid." Bradley put his hand under his chin in a considering manner, his eyes dropping to the floor to consider another possibility.

"Sir, perhaps he's right." Grumman said, and Bradley turned to him, and gestured for him to continue. "Think about it, it won't look good for the State if we send a child to a laboratory to be dissected. The military is not a very popular organization, and appearances can sometimes be just as important as action. Your average citizens of Amestris will want to know what happened to their 'Hero of the People', and when they find out, they could rebel against the State. No matter what he is in the eyes of the military, to the general populace, Fullmetal is still a young child."

"You make a good point, General." He said after a moment of consideration. "Hakuro, what is you're opinion on the matter?"

"I agree with Grumman, however, we can't just let a chimera, especially not one with such destructive potential as Fullmetal, just waltz around wherever he wants whenever he wants. He should be under close guard. I recommend myself for the time being, until someone more suitable can be decided upon." Hakuro proposed.

"I'll volunteer, sir." Maes said immediately.

"Not so fast, Lieutenant Colonel." Hakuro said. "You've known about this for...how long was it, again?"

"Since roughly a week after finding Edward, sir." Maes said.

"And it never occurred to you that you should tell your Commanding Officer?"

"I shared Edward's fear, sir." Maes said. Mustang knew he was telling the truth, but he also knew that Edward had made Maes promise to keep his lips shut tight.

"That is why I can't accept your offer. It's no secret that you consider the Major a part of your family. I can see it in your eyes right now. If anything were to happen, you wouldn't tell me if it posed some sort of threat to Elric. You'd put your personal feelings in the way of your job, and I can't allow it. However...Mustang, you did not know about this, correct?"

"Correct, sir!" Mustang said, saluting. The salute was, technically, unnecessary, but he knew the higher ups liked it when people saluted them. If it could get him some points in with Hakuro, then he would do it gladly. He had a ladder to climb, after all, and little gestures like that helped him climb it.

"What are your feelings on this matter?" Hakuro asked him. Glancing to his side, he could see Maes staring up at him from his knees, something unfamiliar in his eyes. Edward wasn't even looking at anybody, just at his hands.

"I think that, based on what I observed earlier today, Fullmetal could be a potential danger. I feel like General Hakuro's idea is an excellent one, however you are a busy man, General. Surely you don't have the time to spend on watching him?"

"I want to monitor him for a while until I can make a decision fully. But once I do, would you be available to keep watch on him?" Hakuro asked.

"I would, sir." Mustang said. Edward jumped, then, and scooted obviously away from Mustang. Maes' eyes flashed with anger before he got control of himself. A sudden itch on Mustang's cheek reminded him of when Maes had hit him in the park barely an hour ago. Mustang had known that Maes could have been discharged for that action alone, so, when no one was looking, he'd used what little bio-alchemy he knew to prevent his face from bruising and swelling. It had been extremely taxing, and it probably would only hold for a few more hours, but after that it wouldn't matter, because he had the week off after today, so it all worked out perfectly. Well, not really off, but more that he had signed up to work from home for a while so that he could work further on a murder case that had been recently brought to his attention. It should be easy to crack once he was in a more relaxing environment.

"Good." The Fuhrer said. "How long until you can take Fullmetal home with you, General?"

"If you'll allow me a few minutes, I'll call ahead and make some arrangements. I should be able to accommodate him within the hour." Hakuro said.

"Very well, you go do that. But first, what do you think we should do about the Lieutenant Colonel? He did withhold important information." Bradley said.

"How about we hand over Mustang's murder case over to him?" He suggested. "That way Mustang can spend his week at home preparing for Fullmetal's arrival. Does that sound acceptable to you, Colonel?"

"It does, sir." Mustang said. This was working out great! A whole week all to himself! And it wouldn't even take much to set up a bed and some sheets for the kid to sleep on, and perhaps a little bit of alchemy to fortify the walls of the guest room, change the lock from the inside of the room to the outside...really, it would be so easy.

"Excellent. If you'll excuse me, Fuhrer." Hakuro said, saluting them before moving past Maes and Edward to exit the huge room. A quick glance down at his new charge, and Hakuro was out the door. After a moment, General Grumman was also dismissed, and he followed the younger man out of the room, giving Edward a quick look of reassurance as he went.

"Now, Colonel Mustang, I'd like you to give all of the case files in your possession relating to your case to the Lieutenant Colonel, and make sure he's up to date with all of your findings. His department should be able to handle this case a lot easier than you, and it will give you time to prepare. Really, Lieutenant Colonel," Bradley said, eyeing Hughes. "You're lucky with what you got. General Hakuro can be known to be quite harsh sometimes."

"Yes, sir." Maes said.

"Off you go, soldiers." Dismissed, Mustang turned to leave, and Maes helped Edward to his feet, turning to follow.

"Wait." The three of them turned around, and Bradley gestured to Edward. "Until General Hakuro is ready for you, you can stay with me, Fullmetal."

"Y-yes sir." Edward said, his voice hinting at a timidness that was unlike him. "Bye, Maes."

"See ya, Ed. Don't worry, I'll come visit."

"Thanks." And with that, Mustang and Maes left Edward and the Fuhrer to it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

When Maes and Mustang left, Edward stood awkwardly, completely unsure of what to do. His heart was still racing a hundred kilometers and hour from being forced to tell his story to the highest ranking men in the military, and then finding out that he had been right in his dissection theory. Unbidden, images of scalpels and scissors slicing through his skin burst into his mind, and he shivered, chasing them away. That was the last thing he needed on his mind now.

He was also still in shock from finding out that he would be staying with General Hakuro. He had only come across the man a few times, certainly not enough to be able to form a solid opinion about the man, but the stories he had heard were decent enough. Apparently, he treated his men well enough, only being harsh when truly necessary. Of course, sometimes he lost his temper, but that could be expected of a man who had two children. Ed remembered mum getting frustrated at him and Al sometimes when they'd pushed her too far and been too naughty. He wasn't sure how he felt about eventually having to stay with Mustang, but he supposed he'd just have to cross that bridge when he got to it.

"Take a seat, Fullmetal." Fuhrer Bradley said, breaking hi out of his thoughts and making him jump slightly.

"Yes sir." Edward said, carefully taking a seat on one of the couches. Bradley himself had taken a seat at his desk and had pulled out some sort of paperwork, and was eyeing it closely.

"Edward," He said, raising his eyes to look at him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you happy with the arrangements that have been made? Answer truthfully, please." He asked, and Edward, surprised, took a moment to consider the question.

"I guess this is better than being dissected in a lab, but..."

"But..."

"But I've never really met General Hakuro properly. I don't know what he's like, or how he'll treat me. And I know he has a family, and I don't want to intrude on that."

"You're worried he'll treat you like an animal, aren't you, Fullmetal?" Bradley said, reading his mind.

"Yes sir." He answered, unsure.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much. The General is a nice man, from what I can tell. You should be fine."

"Thank you, sir."

They didn't speak after that. The Fuhrer went back to his work and Edward sat still on the couch, thinking. He ought to trust the Fuhrer, he knew he should, but he still couldn't help but feel like living with the General would not be overly pleasant. He wished he could just take today back, go back home, and sleep. Maybe play with Elicia for a while. He did enjoy playing with the young toddler, and he loved showing her simple alchemy tricks. It amused her to no end when he could make regular napkins into origami swans without having to fold them, or when would bring home rocks to Transmute into whatever animal she desired that particular day. He'd made so many little animals for her...birds, cats, puppies, his personal favourite, that one little pony. They'd decorated her room with them, and a few times she'd insisted that he keep some of them in his room, to, 'make it look pretty'.

He highly doubted he'd be able to play with the General's children. He wouldn't let him near them. Hanging his head, he wished he could just go back to the days where everything held some sort of semblance of normalcy.

"Fullmetal." Edward's head snapped up when he realized that the Fuhrer had been trying to get his attention.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." He fumbled over words, and the Fuhrer chuckled.

"Calm down, Fullmetal. I was just letting you know that the General's here to take you home." He said. Edward glanced over to the door and realized that Hakuro was, in fact, standing there, waiting for him.

"Oh, thank you sir." He said, getting to his feet and walking timidly over to the General. Only when you were standing beside him could you really get an idea of how tall the man was, Ed discovered, and he silently cursed his own short height.

"Come along, Elric." Hakuro said, opening the door and gesturing for Ed to step out. "Good evening, Fuhrer."

"Evening, General." Bradley called, and Hakuro shut the door.

"It's evening already?" Edward asked, mostly to himself.

"Do not speak unless spoken to, Elric." Hakuro said, glancing down at Ed and stepping forward into the completely empty corridor. Edward hurried to catch up.

"Yes sir." He said. God, he was getting sick of saying that. Hakuro didn't say anything else, just continued to walk in silence, and Edward got the very deep feeling that he was not going to enjoy his stay at the man's house. As they walked, and itch began to build up in Ed's throat, and that itch built into an extremely aggravating urge to cough. He managed to hold it off until they were outside, but once the cold air hit him, he was a goner. The cough exploded from his lips, and Hakuro spun around, his hand brushing the butt of the gun holstered at his hip before he realized that Edward was just coughing. He narrowed his eyes, but Edward barely saw it, because the cough was building up, and soon he was on his knees on the cold, hard cement, his hand at his mouth to catch the blood that was falling from it. He could feel water in his eyes, and he wiped it away.

It felt like years had passed, but eventually the cough subsided. He missed Maes more than ever already. Had he been here, he would have rubbed Ed's back while he coughed and it would have been over a lot quicker. Hakuro just stood there impatiently. With one last cough, Ed wiped the blood from his lips and stood shakily to his feet, looking up at the man who was staring down at him in a way that made him feel a lot smaller than he was. "Sorry, sir." He choked.

"Just hurry up." The man said coldly, turning on his heel back towards the car that was waiting for them. He got into the backseat and shut the door, and Edward stumbled around the back of the vehicle and opened the opposite door, sliding in and closing it quietly. Buckling up his seat-belt, he glanced his eyes over to the older man only a few feet away from him. He was sitting in a way that spoke of self-importance and value. The car's engine started and the driver pulled out onto the road. They passed through the streets in silence, and Ed was glad that the man did not try to engage him in conversation. He did not even know what he would say to him at all. Again, his mind wandered to Elicia, and how much he enjoyed playing with her. From there, it wandered to Alphonse and to Winry. He felt sick that he hadn't been able to talk to them since he'd been hauled by the police to the Fuhrer's office. Did Al hate him? Edward had certainly given him reason to. After his brother had tried to reach him, he'd been so cold to him. Maybe Granny was right. Maybe Al wasn't safe around him.

He still couldn't believe that she'd said it, though. He'd expected it, known it, believed it himself to some extent, but to actually hear the words leave her lips he had felt so betrayed. Like even his own family would never be able to accept him like this. Why did this have to happen to him? He'd payed his way. He'd made up for his mistakes, given everything he could possibly give to make Alphonse better, to repay his debt to the Truth. But still, it could never be enough, it seemed. He would always have to keep paying. First his leg, then his arm. Then he'd payed through pain, so much so that he could barely even be considered a human being any more. Next he had payed with his heart, and now it seemed, his freedom. He was to be guarded like a dog, and it made him feel like shit. He had always been one to do things his own way, not because of stubbornness or anything so petty, but because he knew in his gut what would work and what wouldn't. And, to be fair, they did kind of manage to bring mum back before she died again...

"Elric, we're here." Hakuro said, just as the car pulled to a stop. He stepped out, and Edward did the same. His foot hit loose stones, which made up the driveway, which led a short way to a huge mansion to rival the Armstrong estate. He'd never been there before, but he'd seen pictures of it, and this was almost just as big! There was a main building, double story, of course, and a slightly smaller area that branched off of it. It took Ed a moment to realize that it was some sort of super-sized garage. As Ed moved around the car to stand near Hakuro, who was conversing quietly with what appeared to be a butler, he noticed that the butler guy held what looked like a dog's...collar and leash. It was big enough to fit around his neck, and he didn't have any doubts that they would try and put it there. A small whimper escaped his lips, and Hakuro turned to see him eyeing the collar fearfully. "Ah yes. Kordell, if you please?"

"Yes sir." The man named Kordell said, stepping towards Ed with the collar held out. Quickly, Edward took a step backwards, wrapping his hands around his throat. Roughly he shook his head.

"No." He said. "I'm not wearing that thing."

"You'll do as you're told, Elric." Hakuro said. "Unless you want to be dissected." Edward recognized the thinly veiled threat, and, his heart pounding, he slowly took his hands away. Kordell the butler took the chance to quickly wrap the collar around his neck before he could change his mind. It was made of a semi-smooth leather, thick in width. It made the slightest of hissing sounds as it slid across the bare skin of his throat, but when Kordell slid the end through the buckle Ed realized it was going to hurt. He pulled it tight and clipped the buckle closed. The metal bits bit into his skin painfully, and Edward had to force himself not to throw his arms up and remove it. There was a ring over the leather to his left side, and it too dug into his neck. Edward didn't even click what it was for until Kordell clipped the leash to it. A small noise caught in his throat, and when Hakuro grunted in amusement, Edward had to resist the temptation to pound him. It would get him nowhere. The big man moved off towards the house, and his butler followed, pulling Edward along with him. The collar bit into his neck even more when the man pulled harshly on it after Edward tripped, and Ed also had to make himself not attack the butler. After all, he supposed, surely the man didn't actually want to do this to him, right? He was just following his employers orders...that made it a little easier to bear.

He was pulled up a small set of stairs to the entrance-way of the house, and then inside. Inside, the house was decked out amazingly, filled with fancy modern furnishings, despite the tapestries and old portraits. It all looked so expensive, but that must just be one of the perks of being a military General. You could afford more than you needed. Just because you wanted.

As he was led through the house, they passed by a little girl, hiding behind one of the miniature pillars the house seemed to have. She had to have been about four, maybe five. A little bit older than Elicia. She had big eyes, and she looked at him, fascinated. "Daddy?" She said.

"Yes, sweetie?" Hakuro replied, his tone of voice completely different to what it had been when he addressed Edward.

"Why is that boy wearing a doggy collar?" She asked, in that sweet, innocent childish way that reminded him of the girl he'd come to think of as his baby sister.

"Because he is a dog, sweetie." Hakuro replied, and Edward's heart filled with despair. Deep down, he'd been hoping that maybe, just maybe, the collar was just a precautionary measure, that had nothing to do with his genetics. This proved that his hopefulness had been in vain, just like everything else he did.

"No he's not." The little girl argued. "He doesn't look like a doggy to me."

"He doesn't look like it right now, but he is, trust me."

"Okay daddy." The little girl said.

"Just remember sweetie not to go near the dog, okay?" Hakuro said.

"But why?"

"Because he's dangerous. He could hurt you." He told her.

"He doesn't look dangerous, daddy." She said, looking up at him with her cute little kid face. "No, he just looks really sad." Ed's eyes watered at her words. How was it that a child could understand him? A child, with no real life experience, could understand him better than full grown adults.

"Go play with your brother, sweetie." The man said.

"Okay daddy!" She exclaimed, running off to find her brother.

"Let's go." Hakuro instructed, and his butler 'yes sir'd. Edward remained silent. "Stop." Hakuro, who had been in the motion of turning a corner, suddenly halted, turning around to glare at Edward. His icy look gave Edward chills, and not the pleasant kind. What could he have possibly done wrong now? "You will respond when you're addressed, Elric."

"Yes sir." He said numbly. Ah, so that was what it was. This man thought he was so great that every single person had to acknowledge every single thing he said. God, Edward hated people like him. They reminded him of Mustang.

"Good. Come along."

"Yes sir." He said again, in the same blank tone. He followed them down the seemingly endless corridors, until they came to a staircase leading downward, and Edward had a sinking feeling as he realized he was being kept in the basement. He didn't want to go down there, he so didn't want to go down there! One basement was enough, thank you very much! He didn't need any more. It would be cold down there, and dark, and couldn't deal with any more of that. As the two men in front of him began to descend into the darkness below, he stopped, planting his feet firmly above the first step. The leash jerked and his skin pinched when Kordell realized that Ed wasn't following, and he turned around in annoyance.

"Come along, Mr Elric." He said impatiently, making Hakuro turn around.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He questioned.

"I can't- I can't go down there." He said, his voice trembling.

"You don't have a choice." Hakuro told him.

"I can't. I can't do this. I can't deal with basements."

"Get down here!"

"No!" Hakuro's eyes flashed with anger, and, slowly, he stepped back up toward's Ed, taking the leash from Kordell and coming right back up to the top where Edward was. He was so close that Edward could have touched the fabric of his military pants if he'd just flicked a finger, and it made him shake. Hakuro was at least three times his height, and they way he was staring down at him made it feel like so much more than that. He didn't see the backhand coming until it had already hit him. His face snapped to the side and he was knocked off balance, hitting the wall beside him, his cheek burning. He blinked back the water collecting in his eyes and pressed his hands against the wall to keep himself upright, and did his best to ignore the itch that had started in his throat. Not right now, please, not right now. He begged silently. Whether he was begging himself or Hakuro, he wasn't sure.

"You will follow me down into that basement, and you will do as I say, because if you don't, I will deem you a liability to the military and a danger to the people, and then you'll be sent to Lab Two to be dissected. Understood?" Hakuro growled, getting in Ed's face. The man's grey eyes were ice cold, and Edward didn't doubt him at all. Swallowing back his fear, he nodded. "Good. Kordell, you're dismissed."

"Thank you sir. Goodnight." Kordell said, passing them by and disappearing into the labyrinth of corridors that was the Hakuro mansion.

"Get moving, Elric." Hakuro demanded, and, tentatively, Edward stepped down one stair. Hakuro growled and pushed him down the next one, and Edward watched his feet, desperate not to trip up. The man passed him, walked further down, and yanked harshly on the leash. Ed grunted in pain as the buckle on the collar pinched nastily at his throat. If this kept going there would be blood soon. At a pace Edward was not comfortable with, the two continued to descend into the basement. There was no lighting except what was coming from the floor above, and it was steadily growing colder. Edward fought back a feeling of claustrophobia as the walls seemed to get more narrow, and, eventually, when the stairs finally ended into an open space, fear of what was going to happen to him here. Hakuro kept going to the end of the space and Edward realized that hidden in the shadows was a door, and when that door was opened he wanted to die.

Beyond the door was a suffocatingly small space, occupied by nothing but an old metal bed with a flimsy looking mattress, with a pillow that was about as thick as his hand, and two blankets. Well, they were more like sheets than blankets, really, and they would provide little to no warmth down here. His arms were covered in goosebumps, and the hairs on his neck were standing. Something about this place seemed so wrong. How was he supposed to live here? There wasn't even a toilet! Nope, double take, there was a pissy little bucket in the corner. There was also a ring protruding from the wall above his bed, and Edward's weak heart skipped a beat when he realized he was going to be tied to it. "Get in." Hakuro said, shoving him forward. Edward tripped over his foot and fell down onto the cold cement floor, and he looked over his shoulder to see Hakuro staring down at him, a slight smirk pulling at one corner of his lips. "This is where you will sleep. I'll come and get you in the morning."

"Yes, sir." He said, his voice faint. "Um, General Hakuro, sir?" He asked timidly as his stomach rumbled loudly.

"What?" Hakuro asked, the tone of his voice giving away the fact that he didn't care as he moved to tie the end of Ed's leash securely onto the ring. The leash was a reasonable length, so he had just enough room as it was, but he suspected he would not be able to properly reach the bucket...

"Could I please have some food, sir? I haven't eaten since this morning." He suppressed a whimper as Hakuro shook his head silently, turning away and closing the door behind him. Blindly, Edward reached out a hand to do...what, exactly? It must have just been a reflex. The whimper escaped him as he heard a bolt slide home, locking him inside. No light escaped from even the cracks between the door, and he blindly reached around the room until his hand made contact with the bed. It creaked loudly as he hauled himself onto the extremely uncomfortable mattress, and he lay down on it, setting his head on the pillow. He had been taking for granted the luxury of Maes' home until now. His bed there had felt like he was sleeping on a cloud. Here he wondered if he might be more comfortable on the cement floor. Feeling dejected, he pulled the blankets over his shivering frame, not bothering to remove his pants or his bloodstained jacket or his shoes. He would need to leave all of them on if he were to avoid catching pneumonia down here, anyway.

Why does this have to happen? He thought to himself as his stomach growled again. Why can't I just...Even in his head he couldn't finish the sentence, because he didn't even know how it was supposed to end. Why couldn't he just...what? What was the answer to that question? And then, the answer to why he couldn't do it would be helpful as well. He turned over to face the wall as a lump in the mattress dug into his side, and the rope from the leash wound around his neck. After a moment of numbly wondering whether it would matter if he hung himself tonight, he carefully unwound it from his throat, deciding that death wasn't worth it right now. There had to be a bright side somewhere...right? Right?!

Moaning, he wrapped his arms around his stomach, which was growling fiercely. The itch in his throat had grown into a kind of burning sensation, and, deciding he had nothing more to lose, he indulged it. Letting the coughs rack his frame as they came, wave after wave, making him go red in the face as he struggled to breathe through it. He ignored the blood that trickled from his lips and onto the dirty-white mattress, deciding that it didn't matter. He couldn't see it anyway, so what was the point? Tears trickled down his face, and he took in a gasping breath as the cough let him be for a moment before continuing on. God, why did life have to make him so miserable? Why couldn't he just catch a break? Everything was supposed to come with an equivalent price, but this wasn't equivalent, was it? This wasn't fair.

But the Truth wasn't like that. It's entire principle was to make sure everything was balanced. That no one took more than they had payed for, and that no one payed more than they took. He had learned this when he had first been forced through the Gate, forced to take in some of it's knowledge. He knew that the entire foundation of the world depended on this principle of balance. It was the entire point. Equivalent Exchange. It was the code he lived by, as an alchemist. There were people who thought that that principle didn't exist, but he knew it did. Had witnessed it firsthand. Twice. He couldn't deny that the Truth would not stray from it's purpose. Which begged another question entirely.

If he was stilling paying a price...

What exactly was he paying for?


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cold and broken
> 
> It's over I didn't want to see it come to this   
> I wonder if I will ever see your face again   
> And I know that I will find a way to shed my skin   
> It's simple I know that I will suffer in the end
> 
> Fast I fade away   
> It's almost over   
> Hold on   
> Slow I suffocate   
> I'm cold and broken   
> Alone
> 
> ~Fade Away (Breaking Benjamin)

"Elric, get your ass out of bed!" Hakuro shouted, throwing open the door with a bang and a squeal.

"Yes, sir." Edward groaned. He hadn't slept a single wink the last night, because he had spent it trying to find some sort of comfy spot on the stupid mattress, as well as thinking about pretty much everything that had ever happened to him ever. But the main reason was because he had coughed consistently throughout the night. He didn't even want to know how much blood he'd left, because he was sure if he did he'd wonder how he was even still alive. His chest and abdominal region ached like Hell itself thanks to it, and his eyelids felt like they were trying to lift lead weights. Hauling himself up out of the corner he'd huddled into at some point during the night, he rubbed his sore neck. He couldn't remember how long ago he'd finally lost it and taken off that stupid collar, but it wasn't long enough ago. The skin that had been pinched by the buckle was throbbing painfully still, and he was pretty sure that it had broken a little and bled a few droplets. That might have been when he'd taken it off...he still wasn't sure. The night had been so long it might as well have lasted a month and a half.

Month and a half Ed! What does that mean? Do you remember? Pain, that's what it is! A month and a half of it! The little demon in his head laughed like a maniac, and when Ed closed his eyes and tried to picture it, the little demon became some sort of demon-wolf hybrid. Goddammit, he was so sick of wolves. The entire night he could have sworn he'd heard dozens of them howling. Hell, it might have even been him. He was so tired he could barely tell left from right without double checking. It was amazing how many tricks the mind could play on you when you went too long without sleep. It could make you hear things that weren't there. Voices. There had been so many voices trying to tempt him last night. First it had been Winry. Telling him that he was pathetic. Then Alphonse had told him that he was a terrible brother. That he had let him down. He had whispered at them to go away, to leave him alone, but they had stayed, of course. You couldn't chase away what wasn't there, after all. Then Maes had joined the conversation. Oddly, no matter how hard he listened, he hadn't been able to make out what the man was saying. Just that he was, in fact, saying something. But just his voice had been soothing, while it lasted. And it lasted for a while. While Imaginary Maes had been talking, no coughing fits bothered Ed, not even one.

That had been the only good part of the night.

But Mustang.

Mustang had been bothering him for hours. He'd been trying to convince Edward to follow him. Edward didn't know where Imaginary Mustang wanted him to go, and he had asked, too, but Mustang had told him to trust him. Had said that if Ed followed him he would be rewarded. Edward didn't want a reward, he just wanted to go home. Maybe that was the reward. He'd thought tiredly. He could have done it, too. Could have followed the sound of Mustang's voice. Could have escaped. He certainly had the power to. He was an extremely powerful chimera. So far, throughout the training he had undergone in...that place...there hadn't been a single material his claws had not been able to slice through as easily as a hot knife through butter. He could have torn the door apart. Could have run away, to some place where he wouldn't be treated this way. He had been tempted...so tempted, but in the end he had stayed. What would Maes think of him if he had left? He would have been disappointed. He couldn't disappoint him...

"Elric..." Hakuro said slowly, making Edward blink back dizziness as he stood shakily to his feet. His voice sounded contained, and Ed didn't like that.

"Yes, sir?" He said, wiping his eyes.

"Who took off your collar?" The older man asked.

"I did, sir." Edward said groggily.

"Why did you do that? I don't recall saying you could take it off."

"It was hurting my neck, sir." If Edward had to say 'sir' one more time, he was going to throw up.

"That's no excuse, you insolent wretch!" The man growled, stepping forward into the room -though it was really more of a cell than a room- and picking Edward up by the collar of his jacket, slamming him up against the wall. Ed's head bounced off the cement and he groaned. He was too tired for this. "You are not allowed to do anything without my permission, understand?" Edward nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything other than 'get the Hell off me'. "Good" Hakuro said, dropping him to the floor and moving over to the pathetic excuse for a bed. Ed's butt hit the floor hard, and he groaned as a warm lance of pain shot up his back and reverberated around his pelvis. He watched, his vision blurry, as Hakuro unhooked the collar from the leash and stepped back over to him, picking Ed up, again by his jacket, and propping him up against the wall, which Edward leaned on like a lifeline. "Neck." He ordered, and, too exhausted to defy him, Edward tilted his chin upwards as Hakuro snaked the collar around his throat. He slipped the end through the buckle and put the prong through a hole too far away from the end for comfort. It was way too tight, tighter than it had been when Kordell put it on him, and Ed could barely even breathe. His lungs begged him to take the deepest breath possible, but he could only take shallow ones without choking himself.

Again, the buckle pinched his skin, and he winced. God, this hurt.

"Let's go, Elric." Hakuro said, not a trace of sympathy to be found. Not wanting to have to talk unless absolutely necessary, he nodded again. "That's not how you address your superiors, Elric." The man said disapprovingly.

"Yes sir." Edward choked out through the collar, but, at Hakuro's harsh glare, he added "Sorry, sir." He prayed to a God he didn't believe in that his throat wouldn't itch today so he wouldn't have to cough. If he had to cough through this thing, he would suffocate.

"Let's go."

"Yes sir." Edward followed him out of his little cell and up the stairs into the mansion. The light hit him like a bullet, and his head swam. Trying not to groan, he put his hand in front of his eyes, waiting for them to adjust. After spending God knew how long down in the dark, the light felt so foreign. Maids were bustling around the place, dusting this or altering that, and Ed wondered just how much the General got payed to be able to actually afford all of this. He was led through so many halls he would never be able to memorize them all before eventually finding himself in a dining area. Hakuro's wife, son and daughter were already at the table, eating platefuls of bacon and eggs, with some sort of salad on the side. There were two extra plates, one stuffed with food and one with a...reasonable...amount. Hakuro instructed him to sit in front of the plate with less food, and he 'yes sir'd and did as he was told, like a good little dog. The little girl looked up at him and smiled, so he smiled back, picking up his knife and fork to cut his bacon as Hakuro sat down beside him.

"Good morning, dear." His wife said, her voice soft. Not anywhere near as much as Gracia's, but it was fairly close.

"Morning." Hakuro said in reply, putting food in his mouth.

"Are you going to introduce us to our guest?" She asked.

"This is Edward." He said simply.

"Hello, Edward. My name is Rosalia." She said to Ed, and he swallowed -with difficulty- his food before responding.

"Hello Rosalia. It's nice to meet you." He said through the choke of his collar.

"Nice to meet you too, Edward." She said. "Levi, Liz, are you going to introduce yourselves?" She asked her children. The little girl spoke up first.

"Hi, Edward," She said. "My name is Liz."

"Greetings, Edward," said the boy, who looked to be about six or seven. "I am Levi."

"Nice to meet you, Liz, Levi." He said. Absently, he shifted the collar on his neck to an ever-so-slightly less painful position, and Liz laughed in that adorable childish way that kids laughed.

"So, mister Edward, do you like being a dog?" She asked. Edward looked down at his plate.

"Liz!" Rosalia exclaimed in a scolding tone. "Don't say things like that! It's rude!"

"But he is a dog, mummy." Liz said. "Daddy said so." Rosalia's gaze snapped to Hakuro, and he looked up at her.

"Edward." He said. "Would you care to show them?" Ed's finger twitched. No, he wouldn't care to. He never wanted to have to do it again. He wanted to do nothing more than try to pretend that that part of him didn't exist. That he was just a regular human being. Why did he have to? Did it really matter? Hands trembling slightly, he stood up and back from the table, murmuring Hakuro's expected response. Closing his eyes, he clenched his fists and let the wolf come out. His claws grew and so did his fur, his tail, which popped out the top of his trousers, and his ears changed shape, blending to more of a wolf's than a human's. He heard Rosalia's sharp intake of breath, and knew she must be scared out of her wits at the horrific sight of him. Opening his eyes fractionally, looking through lashes, he could see that Levi was white-knuckling his fork, but seemed otherwise fine. Liz looked extremely impressed, and, after a painfully long second, started clapping her hands, cheering him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, letting the monster fall away from him. Feeling suddenly drained, he dropped to the floor, crossing his legs and putting his head in his hands.

"Good job, Edward." Hakuro praised him like he was some kind of house pet, and, Edward supposed he sort of was. Just a slightly more dangerous one than your average lap-dog. "Sit up and finish your breakfast."

"Yes sir." Edward murmured, getting to his feet and sitting back on the chair. He kept his gaze locked solely on his plate, and, not feeling very hungry despite his stomach's incessant growling. Slowly, he ate the rest of the food he assumed one of the maids had cooked for him. He tried to ignore Rosalia's whisperings, but it was hard, considering they mostly contained things like 'how could you bring something like that here?' or 'what if it hurts one of the children' etcetera etcetera.

"Mister Edward?" Ed looked up to see Levi looking at him intently. His big green eyes were focused, and Edward sensed that, much like he had been at that age, this child was far more intelligent than your average eight-year-old.

"Yes, Levi?" He asked quietly, and he noticed the furious whisperings between husband and wife silence themselves.

"Is that why you wear a collar?" Levi asked him, sounding like he was trying to be offensive. After a moment, Ed answered.

"Yeah, it is." He said.

"Oh." Levi said. "Mister Edward, can I ask you something else?"

"Sure you can." Ed said.

"How did you get like that."

"Levi, that's enough." Rosalia hushed. Edward wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt the urge to tell Levi what he wanted to know. A moment ago, he hadn't wanted to, but as soon as the woman tried to avoid it, he'd made up his mind.

"You really wanna know?" He asked the boy, trying to sound as kind as possible to the child. Levi nodded. "Levi, you know what alchemy is, don't you?" After a quick nod, he continued. "Well, six months ago, I was kidnapped. I was taken to an underground research lab, and they used alchemy to combine me with a wolf." Levi looked fascinated.

"Did it hurt?" He asked.

"It did." Edward replied. "It hurt a lot."

"Are you okay?" The question, more than any other, caught off guard. With the exception of the Hughes family and Hawkeye, (and Al) nobody had asked that question in a very, very long time. Levi was the first person to actually ask about his well-being, and he was a complete stranger. It took Ed a second or two to push down the surprise and actually answer the boy.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He lied. Levi opened his mouth, probably to ask another question, but Edward never found out what the inquisitive child wanted to ask him, because at that moment, Hakuro rose from the table, announcing that it was about time he headed off for work. Edward stood up and followed him out the door. A glance over his shoulder back at Levi told him that the boy would not forget his question, and Ed would probably hear it tomorrow morning. Together they walked out to the car that was parked about halfway down the driveway. Ed couldn't wait to get to Central H.Q so that he could talk to Maes, providing they actually ran into him, that was. And if Hakuro actually let him talk. Which, now that he thought about it, he highly doubted that he would be allowed to. Well, there goes the only ray of sunshine the day has to offer, Ed thought bitterly as he climbed into the car.

The drive to their destination was, once again, filled with nothing but deafening silence. Edward watched through the glass window as they drove through Central's streets, bustling, even at the early hour of seven there were still people going around doing whatever normal people did at seven in the morning. As they drove past the apartment complex were Edward had called home for the past six months, he saw Maes walking to his car. Maes saw him looking and smiled at him, waving, and, timidly, Edward raised his hand a little and waved back before they passed him by. When they were out of sight, he put it back in his lap, hoping beyond reasonable hope that Maes would find him today.

Before long they were at Central Command. Edward did his best to ignore the stares and whisperings of the other soldiers as he passed them by, but it was nearly impossible. They looked at him as if her were some sort of beast, a monster. Which he was, really. He was a chimera, half human half wolf; if that didn't qualify as a beast or a monster then nothing would. But still, it hurt. He hadn't asked to be like this. He hadn't asked to be Transmuted. But still they whispered. Still they looked at him with disgust. The words followed him around like a disease. Monster. Thing. Beast.

Whore.

There was that word again. 'Whore'. He still couldn't understand, for the life of him he couldn't, why people thought he was one of those people. When he had asked Maes what felt like a lifetime and a half ago what the word meant, he'd explained it. And when he'd asked why people called him that, he'd said he didn't know. But Edward hadn't really believed him. Maes knew something that he didn't. Why he was keeping it a secret, Ed didn't know, but he was sure the man had his reasons. Maybe it was something only adults understood?

"Keep up, Elric." Hakuro snapped at him, and he realized he'd fallen behind. Hurriedly he picked up his pace, falling just behind step with the older man. He had the distinct feeling that Hakuro would get mad at him again if he was to resume that they were equals. So he remained one pace behind. Not too close, not too far. As they were passing some particularly uppity-looking soldiers, it occurred to Edward that he was still wearing Maes' bloodstained jacket. Maybe that would be an excuse for his father figure to stop by today. To get his jacket. The possibility made Edward smile inwardly, and he thought that maybe this day wouldn't be so horrible after all. They turned off at a corner and Hakuro opened a door, and showed Edward inside of it. Ed figured this must be the man's office. It was certainly big enough for a General. There was so much space Edward wondered what they needed so much room for. It was almost as big as the Fuhrer's office. Almost, but not quite. "Sit." The General instructed.

"Where, sir?" Ed asked quietly, as there was no place to sit in the office that wasn't already occupied by soldiers hard at work.

"Right there." Hakuro said, pointing to a section of carpet beside his huge desk. If he was trying to make Edward feel like an actual dog, he was succeeding. First the cell, the collar, and now this. Swallowing back his bitter retort (Oh, Hell no!), he sat down, cross legged, where he was told, and hung his head. Maybe if he pretended to be invisible, they would all forget that he was there. Hakuro sat in his seat a the desk beside him, and pulled out some files from a drawer. Grabbing a pen, he began to scan them, scribbling on the paper here and there. Edward pulled his glance away from that and decided instead to memorize the pattern of the lush carpet he was sitting on. Within two minutes he had it committed to memory. He was tempted to ask Hakuro for something to do, but if he did that, then there was no telling how the man would react. He might give him some paperwork, or he might flip his stack and Edward would be the target of his rage. He didn't know the man well enough at all to tell which way he might go, so instead he stayed silent, thinking about whatever came to his head. Not much did, and for hours he just sat there, staring blankly into space. When lunch break came, Edward was told to wait where he was, the General would bring him his food.

What he was brought was a fairly reasonable helping of hamburger, with a side of salad and bread bun with butter, as well as a glass of water. He gobbled it down eagerly, doing his best to ignore the itching that rose in his throat. The day passed by, and Edward spent it by thinking about some of the alchemical theories he'd been researching before he'd been kidnapped. He hadn't really spent much time on alchemy since then, and had only actually performed it a few times. But still his genius brain was able to delve into the subject immediately, and he lost track of everything around him as he immersed himself in the subject. When he finally finished, making a mental note to write it all down on paper the next time he got the chance, he realized that it was almost time for the General to finish work. He wasn't at all looking forward to going back to that cell, but what he was even more disappointed at was that Maes hadn't stopped by. Maybe the man had forgotten him after all.

So when a knock on the door came, he was ecstatic to see Hughes walk in.

"What it is, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes?" Hakuro asked.

"It's a request form." Hughes said, handing Hakuro a sheet of paper. "I've uncovered a lead in the case I was given, and I need access to a part of the library to get some research material, but I need special permission from my commanding officer. My rank's not high enough." Hakuro began to read over the sheet, and Hughes kneeled down next to Ed. "That reminds me, here you go, Ed." Hughes pulled Ed's red coat out from where he had been hiding it amongst the many things he was carrying and handed it to him. "I'll take this back." He said as Ed shrugged out of Maes' bloodstained jacket and pulled his coat on. It felt good to be wearing it again.

"Thanks." He said, swallowing as an itch worked it's way up his throat. Please not now. He begged silently. Please not now. Absently he tugged at the tight collar around his throat, not that it made any difference. It was still way too tight.

"What's that, Ed?" Maes asked darkly.

"It's a collar." Hakuro answered, looking down at them and handing Hughes the form. "Here."

"Thanks." He said, taking the form. "General, might I ask what this is about?"

"It's a measure of precaution." Hakuro answered.

"Does it have to be so tight?" Hughes inquired. "He can barely breathe."

"If he had left it on last night like he was supposed to, I wouldn't have had to tighten it." The older man said coldly. Edward looked back down at the floor, still tugging on the collar. The itch built up in his throat again, and he went from tugging to scratching his adam's apple. Maes noticed, of course.

"You okay? Is it itching again?" He asked.

"Yeah." Ed answered, a small cough escaping his lips as he did.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, you're dismissed." Hakuro said. Maes, frowning, stood up and saluted.

"Yes sir." He said, giving Ed one last look of concern as he turned away. Another cough escaped him, followed by another, and quickly he had doubled over. He could feel Hakuro's cool gaze on him as he tried desperately to breathe, but the coughing, doubled with the tight collar, was preventing him from giving his lungs any air at all. He fell to his elbows, still spluttering. Crimson dropped from his lips, and he raised his hand to stop it. Of their own volition, his hands suddenly went for the collar around his neck instead. His head felt like it was about to burst, and his lungs burned for air. His face was hot, and if he could just get the damn thing off he would be able to breathe again. He heard Hakuro warning him not to, but it didn't matter. His fingers were shaking too much, fumbling at the buckle, unable to get a grip for long enough to undo it. Suddenly crashing footsteps drew near him, and Mae dropped to his knees at Ed's side, moving his hands out of the way as he grabbed he buckle with his own fingers and swiftly undid it, yanking it away from Ed and tossing it aside.

Edward gasped for breath as Hughes' hand began to rub circles on his back, and his soothing words helped Edward to fight the cough back. Blood stained his hands as the last few coughs racked him, and he wiped his mouth, getting rid of the crimson. "Easy Ed." Maes said softly, the circles on his back continuing until Edward sat up a little more and gave Maes a reassuring look to tell him that he was okay.

"Hughes." Hakuro said dryly. "You are dismissed."

"Sir, please leave it off of him! Can't you see he almost suffocated?"

"I said you are dismissed!" Hakuro shouted, standing up. Slowly, with one last circle on Ed's back, Maes stood up. He wasn't quite as tall as Hakuro, not nearly, but he could still be intimidating when he wanted to be.

"Yes, sir." He said stiffly, giving a sarcastic salute ans spinning on his heel, looking back only once to give Edward a look that said be careful. Ed nodded. When Maes walked out the door, Ed crossed his legs again and hugged himself.

"Elric, come with me." Hakuro said, and Edward winced internally as the man went and picked up the collar before heading to the door. Ed stood up and followed him carefully. He had a bad feeling. By the time they got out the door, Maes was already gone. Hakuro headed in the opposite direction of the Investigations department, opting instead to head towards where Ed was pretty sure the dorms were. That couldn't be good.

He had been right, they were heading in that direction. They entered the dorms and both of them entered an elevator. Hakuro pressed the button for floor five, which was the floor that held the rooms reserved for the highest ranking officers. Every General or Brigadier General (and even the Fuhrer) had a suite up here, rooms so much bigger than all the other ones downstairs. Edward couldn't help but notice that they were all alone up here. No one but them. The General pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked one of the doors, and stepped inside, roughly grabbing the fabric of Ed's cot and pulling him with him. the furnishings Ed noticed were simple, but he didn't notice anything further when Hakuro locked the door behind him. A shudder passed through him when Hakuro turned and faced him. When he took a step towards Ed, Ed involuntarily took a step back...right into a corner. Panic fluttered through him as the man stepped closer, blocking his way out. His eyes were narrowed and his grey orbs were cold and pitiless. "Take off your shirt." The man said.

"What?" Edward wasn't entirely sure he'd heard right there.

"Take off your shirt Elric. Put it there." He pointed to a random spot on the floor, but Ed shoot his head.

"Why should I?" He demanded, his voice shaking as tremors ran down his side, the ghost of touches from the basement.

"I am ordering you, as the man who currently possesses full custody of you, to do as I tell you, or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or I will take it off myself." He said darkly, and Edward took off his coat and tossed it before reaching for the hem of his shirt. Fear had driven him to take off the first layer, but now he found he couldn't lift his hands any higher. They shook, unable to rise the rest of the way. Why? Why does he want my shirt off? Edward thought desperately. His hands began to lower slightly as more phantom touches trailed down his stomach, and anger flashed before Hakuro's eyes. His hands shot out and grabbed the neck of his loose sleeveless top, ripping it down the middle and tearing it off of him before he could react. Hakuro tossed the shirt then grabbed a fistful of Ed's hair. Pain danced over his scalp as Hakuro pulled him forwards, then tossed him sideways. He landed on the floor in a heap, and immediately he tried to shuffle away. The bigger man stood hard on his left ankle, and he gasped as more pain shot up his leg. "Stop moving!" Hakuro growled.

A hot burst of pain flared up in his left side, and he gasped again, trying to figure out what had hurt him. Looking up from the rectangular looking red mark that had brightened his side, he saw that Hakuro was holding the buckle of Ed's collar, and that the rest of the leather was hanging in the air. It only took him a moment to put two and two together and figure out that Hakuro had hit him with it. Curling up, he clutched his side in his hand, crying out when the collar hit him hard on his spine. Again and again Hakuro hit him, and tears flowed from Ed's eyes as he tried desperately not to scream. Auto-mail surgery had singed. Being Transmuted had burned. But this...there were no words for this. This pain, of leather snapping on skin, was indescribable. Skin broke as the leather hit him in tender places. Blood trickled slowly down his back as the collar came down on him repeatedly.

Curled into a ball, he could only lock the screams in his throat, cry, and hope that Hakuro would stop.

It was impossible to count how many times the collar struck him, impossible to determine how many times he had had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. Finally, the collar stopped hitting him. He didn't look up at Hakuro. Didn't move at all. He heard footsteps move around him. He didn't care. He heard Hakuro pick up the phone, dial a number, and wait. When the receiver picked up, Hakuro told them to inform his wife that something had come up at work and that he was going to spend the night in his dorm tonight. When he put the phone down, he moved back over to Ed. "Next time," he whispered, his breath hot in Ed's ear, "Don't give the man a reason to help you." Edward couldn't answer him. Despite the agonizing burning feeling on his bleeding back, his mind felt numb. The past few days had worn him ragged, what with his brother nearly being killed, then everyone finding out that he was a chimera, then yesterday with the collar and the cell in the basement and no sleep...and then this...

The old depression was starting to resurface again, and he didn't bother fighting it. He let it swamp over him. Oddly, it seemed that if he could wallow in his tired, pathetic misery, he could somehow ignore the pain. It wasn't what he wanted. He knew he couldn't just hide from every problem inside the unstable confines of his head, but for now, at least, it seemed it was good enough. Hakuro slid Edward's collar back around his neck, buckling it up tight (though Edward barely registered that it wasn't as tight as it had been), he waited by his side for a few minutes, waiting for Edward to give him some sort of response. When he got none, he stood up and walked away. Edward heard the rustling of clothes, and then the sound of a shower being turned on. After it turned off, some time later, he listened uncaring as Hakuro got into his bed, while Edward stayed curled up on the floor outside the door like a dog.

He had been leashed like a dog, collared like a dog, beaten like a dog.

Maybe he was Hakuro's dog.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I walk alone  
> Think of home  
> Memories of long ago  
> No one knows I lost my soul long ago
> 
> ~On My Own (Three Days Grace)

Edward didn't care. He was past the point of caring. Way too far past. He had stopped caring the moment the collar had slipped back around his throat. He didn't care that his back felt like it was on fire. He didn't care that the blood had dried up and crusted itself onto his skin. He didn't care that his throat was itching to cough (up blood). But what he cared about the least was that Hakuro was telling him to get up.

The man was beside him, telling him to get up, because they had to get to the Command Center because Hakuro had work to do and he was not about to be late because Edward couldn't get his lazy ass off the floor. But Ed didn't care. He didn't care that the man would probably beat him. Nor did he care that he wanted to see Hughes again. He just didn't have the energy to move. He felt numb, empty, hollow. He felt worthless, pathetic, useless. How could one person feel all these things simultaneously? It made no sense to him, but he didn't care about that. No matter what he did, Hakuro would not get him up off this floor without an effort, because Edward had no intention of moving a single muscle. He was too tired, too sore. Why should he get up? What hold did Hakuro have over him? Edward couldn't remember. The answer was there, in his mind, just a little too far out of reach. But that was okay. If he remembered it might be tempting to movie his legs, to stand up, to follow the man who treated him like scum. Without the reason, there was no point in doing any of it. Better to just lay here, curled up like a wounded puppy.

Pain flared up out of nowhere in his right side, and he knew with a hazy kind of awareness that the bigger man had kicked him with his boots. That was okay. He still wasn't going to move. What was physical pain, after all? It was a result of the nerves firing off warning signals to the brain after threatening contact to the body. That was it. The body would bruise, or swell, or maybe even just go red for a while. That was the extent of it. Physical pain was nothing compared to emotional turmoil, so why should he feel compelled to obey by it? He shouldn't. And he wouldn't. Hakuro could spend the next hour kicking him, but he would just be wasting his energy. Another kick in the exact same spot caused another bout of pain that Edward ignored. He didn't care if his body bruised. It had already bled for this man, so what was some blue and purple?

Hakuro must have realized this, because after a few more kicks Edward felt the mans hands grabbing him underneath his arms and he was pulled to his feet. There was a small part of Edward that felt like this was a loss, but the rest of him thought that he had won; Hakuro had had to physically pull him up and onto two feet, and Ed hadn't moved a single muscle on his own. Point: Edward.

When Edward was safely standing, Hakuro left the room, coming back with a plain shirt and Edward's coat. He pulled the shirt over Ed's head and stuck his arms through the sleeves like he was a three year old. He had probably done this a thousand times for his own children, so doing it for Ed to save his own skin (people probably wouldn't react very will if Edward appeared at H.Q shirtless and covered in bloody scars) was not really all that surprising. The shirt pulled at the tares in his skin and he winced internally, hissing through his teeth. The fact that Hakuro wasn't even going to put some kind of disinfectant on it just went to show how little he cared for the well-being of his charge. The man slipped Ed's arms through the sleeves of his coat, and bent down on his knees in front of Ed. "Not a word to anyone, understand?" He said.

Edward nodded reluctantly. Hakuro raised an eyebrow. Ed didn't care. He was not going to open his mouth and speak to this bastard. He barely even registered the slap as it hit him across the cheek, but still he didn't react. That would only be another point for Hakuro, who held too many points already. No, he wasn't going to give in on this one. Not a chance. Eventually Hakuro gave up (Point two for Ed) and just told Edward to follow him as he left the dorm. It took some effort to get his legs moving, but once they were going it was easier to keep them going. They walked in silence, and Edward took no notice of their surroundings as they left the dorms and entered the proper military H.Q. As usual, there were whispers about Edward. Freak. Monster. Short. Whore. He ignored them. He didn't care anymore that they knew that he was a freak, that he was a monster. He didn't care if they thought he was short, or if they thought he was a whore. He knew he wasn't; at least, he wasn't the latter. He still didn't know why they thought he might be one of those people, but, to be perfectly honest with himself, he no longer cared at all. He didn't care what they thought of him, and they could keep thinking whatever they wanted. It didn't change anything anyway.

As they walked through the building, and Edward tried to ignore everything around him, it dawned on him that he still hadn't seen Alphonse or Winry or Granny since the incident two days before. Or was it three? Already he was having difficulty keeping track of time. He was so exhausted. So defeated. So sore. If he was allowed, he could easily have slipped away into sleep's not-so-peaceful oblivion for days, not waking to the slightest sound. He could have dreamed his nightmares like normal, pretended that he was still in his bed at the Hughes' house, pretended that Maes was still the only one who knew what hid underneath his skin. He could have even dreamed something peaceful, like when he had been a child, picking tomatoes with his mother. But he was not allowed to rest as he'd like to, not anymore, not with this asshole beside him controlling his life. It had only been two days (three?) since being handed into the General's custody, but already Edward was considering the pros and cons of fleeing. Unfortunately for him, the cons far outweighed the pros. Besides, with the amount of pain and fatigue he was feeling, he doubted he'd get very far.

"Edward!" Winry's voice shrieked out at him, and his head snapped up. Running towards him was Winry, with Alphonse hot on her heels. Behind them Maes was walking with Granny. He lit up inside, but something forgot to tell his face he was happy. Within half a second Winry's arms were snaked around his neck, and she had pulled him as close as humanly possible to herself. "I'm sorry!" She sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm sorry for not trusting you!"

"Forget it." He told her.

"Edward, are you okay?" Alphonse asked, wrapping his own arms around them both and squeezing them tight. "I missed you."

"I'm okay Al." Edward assured his brother, trying to ignore the fact that his brother's arms were pressing tight against the wounds Hakuro had made the night before. "Really, there's no need to worry."

"But you were gone!" His brother insisted, his voice cracking. "All that stuff and then suddenly the police were taking you away and they wouldn't let me come with you and I haven't seen you for two days!" Ah, so it was two. "Where did they take you?"

"You're brother has been staying with me, Mr. Elric." Hakuro said, and Alphonse looked up at him, his eyes shining. "Don't worry, I've been taking good care of him." Liar. Unless, of course, that collaring, not feeding, and whipping Edward counted a taking good care of him. If that was the case, then Hakuro was doing a splendid job!

"Thank you, sir!" Alphonse exclaimed!

"Lieutenant Colonel." Hakuro said, turning his attention to Maes, while Edward slowly wrapped his arms around his brother and best friend, knowing that they were scared and hurting and needed comfort from him. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Mrs. Rockbell filed a formal request to see Edward, sir." Maes explained. "The request was approved by the Fuhrer."

"Very well then. How much time?" He asked.

"Three hours." Maes answered.

"Okay. Three hours, no more. You can use the spare room next to my office." Hakuro allowed.

"Thank you, sir." Maes said sharply, saluting his Commanding Officer. Hakuro nodded, and continued the way he had been going, sending Edward a quick look that said follow. Silently, Edward did as requested, gently pushing Al and Winry aside to catch up with the older man. He heard them both muttering to each other, but he didn't pay attention to their words. He was too busy watching Hakuro's face through the corner of his eye, and Hakuro was doing the same. He was talking to him through his expression, and Edward didn't need a spoken instruction to know what the man's orders were. Don't tell them a thing, or you'll get it worse later. Understood, sir, he thought sarcastically, suppressing the urge to both roll his eyes and cower away. The numbness that had held him in it's grip so completely earlier was starting to shake itself off of him now that he had seen the people he needed to see most, and he was starting to feel a little more like himself.

But he wasn't sure how long that would last.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Maes felt sick to his stomach at the sight of Edward. When he had turned the corner with the Rockbell' and Alphonse to see the exact people they were looking for coming towards them, he had been pleasantly delighted. But when he had gotten a good look at Ed, the delight had faded into something more anger inducing. The huge bags and bruises under Edward's eyes had caught him first. Since rescuing him, Maes had noticed that the bags had been there, due to the boy's constant nightmares about what had happened to him, but they had never been this bad, and the fact that they could have worsened so in the course of two days was frightening. The poor kid mustn't have slept a wink since being put under Hakuro's care for the bags to have gotten so bad.

The second thing he noticed was the tear stains tracking down his cheeks. They were dry; not recent, but he hadn't seen them yesterday when he had seen the kid. Maybe he had simply woken up from a particularly bad nightmare and forgotten to wipe them off? He had done it before during the time he had stayed with Maes, but the Lieutenant Colonel wasn't sure that he believed that particular possibility. Despite trying to push the fear back, he felt like something deeper was the cause of the small child's tears.

But what stood out at him the most was Edward's eyes.

They were blank. Not a single emotion Maes Hughes recognized crossed that boy's eyes, even as Winry screamed out for him and sprinted towards him. His head snapped up, and Alphonse wasn't far behind Winry, but it might as well have been some random kids running past him in the park for all he seemed to notice. It was almost as if he didn't even recognize them, and that frightened Maes. No matter how bad things got, Edward would never forget his brother or his best friend, so how could he not react to them, especially after the circumstances of their parting. Something was wrong. And he intended to find out what.

He watched, drawing ever closer, as Winry crashed into him, and then Alphonse after her, and they both wrapped their arms around him and squeezed him close, Winry sobbing her apologies and Al trying to make sure his older brother was alright. As Alphonse tightened his grip, Maes noticed the quickest flash of pain cross Edwards's face, before it was hidden again by Edward's new mask. His fingers twitched at his side, and it occurred to Maes that Edward had yet to embrace the hug that he had been pulled into. He was just...standing there. That wasn't right. Alphonse said something and Hakuro answered it as he and Pinako stopped in front of them. "Don't worry, I've been taking good care of him." The General said, and something like rage flashed briefly across Edward's eyes at the words. Maes was forced to file the moment away for further review later, because Hakuro was asking him why, although not in so many words, why there were civilians in the military building.

"Mrs. Rockbell filed a formal request to see Edward, sir." Maes told him, noticing that Edward had now wrapped his arms in a comforting gesture around Winry and Al. "The request was approved by the Fuhrer."

"Very well then." Hakuro said. "How much time?"

"Three hours." Maes responded.

"Okay. Three hours, no more. You can use the spare room next to my office." Hakuro said.

"Thank you, sir." Maes said, saluting the big man as he resumed walking past them all, shooting a barely noticeable glance at Edward as he did so. Edward let go of his brother and Winry and gently pushed through them to follow Hakuro, and Maes saw the dismay on both of their faces. He turned to watch Hakuro and Ed go, trying to understand what had just happened. Edward normally never would have let go of his friends without even saying a word, and especially not his brother. Again, Maes got the feeling that something was off. "Well, we might as well follow them." He offered the stunned children, and they nodded, following him as he stepped off in the direction his C.O and Ed had gone.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, what just happened?" Pinako Rockbell asked him. "It's like he didn't even notice we were here."

"I don't know, Mrs Rockbell, but to be fair, out of everyone, you were the harshest to him." He replied, glancing down at the small woman.

"I know." She said, sounding hollow and ashamed. "I never meant to hurt him. I don't know what came over me."

"Look, don't worry about it. Ed's not the type of person who'll hold a grudge on you over this." He reassured her. "He'll forgive you. I think he's still just in a lot of shock, that's all." She nodded silently, fixing her gaze ahead at Edward, who was walking two paces exactly behind General Hakuro. "Hey..." He murmured quietly, watching Edward's legs as they took step after uneven step. "Is it just me, or is he..."

"Limping?" She finished for him. "I noticed it as well."

"He'll never tell us why, though."

"I know." He said. "But all the same, I'll ask him. He trusts me a lot more than he trusts a lot of people."

"I wish that I held the same trust for him. Whether he forgives me or not is beside the point. I don't think he'll trust me after what I said to him." Maes could't argue with her, because he knew she was right.

When they arrived in the room that Hakuro had allowed for them, the older man said that he had too much work to do to sit with them, but that he would be checking in at regular intervals just to keep an eye on things. They all sat down on the couches that were in the room, all except for Edward, who sat down on the floor, cross legged, tugging absently at the collar that was around his neck. His eyes were downcast, and he didn't seem to know what to say. Feeling more and more sorry for the boy, he moved from the couch to sit on the floor next to him. Ed's head snapped up in surprise, and Maes did his best to ignore the slight flinch, but then a small smile pulled at the boy's lips, and he whispered, "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." He murmured back. Soon enough, the other three had followed suit, and then they were all sitting in a circle, with Edward at the head of it, Maes to his right, Al to his right, then Winry next to Al and then Pinako between Maes and Winry. There was an awkward kind of silence following, while everyone tried to figure out what to say, but eventually it was Pinako who broke it.

"I'm sorry, Edward." She said. Edward slowly lifted his head, so that his bangs did not hide his face. The emotions in his eyes were conflicted, like he couldn't decide whether to forgive her or just not answer her. His eyes flickered to Winry for split second, before he said,

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault."

"Thanks, Ed." Pinako said, sighing. Edward didn't respond, though Maes could see that he certainly had something to say to his adopted grandmother.

"So Ed," Alphonse said, "How have things been living with the General?"

"All...alright I guess." Edward responded, tugging at his collar again. Maes had already told all of them about the collar, and had asked them not to mention it. So far, they'd managed to avoid the subject. He knew that Edward hated that collar. It may have been a measure to keep Ed in line, but Maes knew that Edward thought of it in more of a symbolic way. He would think of it as something that showed he wasn't free. That he was controlled. That he wasn't human. And the more it was mentioned, the more it would put Edward down. It was definitely a subject to be avoided.

"Has he been treating you well?" Winry asked.

"Sure." Ed murmured, trying to scratch an itch underneath the collar. Uh oh. Maes thought. His throat itches again. This isn't good. The last thing we need right now is a repeat of what happened yesterday.

"Hey...Ed?" Al asked nervously, and Maes thought, here it comes. "If you don't mind me asking -"

"You want to talk about the other day?" Edward interrupted.

"If it's okay." Al said shyly, looking at the floor, his thumbs circling each other.

"Yeah. No problem. You deserve to know." Ed said, and, slowly, began to tell his tale like he had for the Fuhrer, except this time to the only family he thought he had left. Maes wasn't inclined to listen. He'd heard this story twice already, and he didn't feel like hearing it again. Instead, he thought back to the days when Edward had lived with him and his wife and daughter. Things had been all right then. Edward had seemed fairly happy. During the day, once he had finished the reports Mustang had always demanded, he would play with Elicia in the lounge room, making all sorts of things with her and for her. In the office, on the occasion that Maes had dropped in to say hello, he seemed tense, but he always had around Roy Mustang, like he never knew what to say to the man. Things had began to fall a little once Alphonse had finally made it back to Central, because Edward had been under the stress of having to hide from his brother, but it had gotten better once they had gone to find Dr Marcoh. Edward had come home with a smile on his face, and the air was filled with his excitement. He had finally found it; the Philosopher's Stone!

He had found the way to bring his brother back into flesh and blood.

Edward had recounted the story to Maes later. He said that Marcoh had been a nice doctor, who used to be a State Alchemist (The Crystal Alchemist) before he had fled from the Ishval Civil War (more like massacre) to make up for his sins. He had stolen all of his research materials and hidden them, and with him, he had taken the only two products of his work. Two Philosopher's Stones. One in crystal form, and one in liquid form. The liquid was what he used to heal his patients, but the crystal one he never touched. It had belonged to another State Alchemist, Zolf Kimblee, The Crimson Alchemist. That particular alchemist had used the stone to murder countless people, and when he had fled, Marcoh stole the stone from Kimblee, so it couldn't be used to kill any more innocents. After hearing what Ed and Al had been through trying to revive their mother, Marcoh had -reluctantly- given them the stone, saying that it might not be enough, but it was worth a shot. He didn't want it, so they might as well use it to restore themselves.

It was just such a shame that Marcoh had been right: the Stone hadn't been enough. Maes knew that Edward had been willing to pay the secret price, the strength of his heart, in order to let Al live a healthy life, but he got the feeling that when Al found out he was going to be less than happy with his older brother.

"W-what?" Alphonse stuttered, pulling Maes out of his reverie.

"I said the Stone wasn't enough, Al." Edward said, and Maes gave an encouraging smile when the boy looked his way for assistance.

"What do you mean it wasn't enough?" Al said desperately, leaning forward, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists.

"The Stone was only enough to pay for your body leaving the Gate." Edward said slowly. "If I hadn't payed the extra price, as soon as you left the void you would have died instantaneously."

Alphonse's face was blank for a moment as he processed this information, but then suddenly his eyes widened in horror as he realized what Edward went, and he leaped forward, grabbing Edward's wrist in his grip and watching his brother intently. "What was the price?" He whispered, his voice shaking. "What did you pay to bring me back?" Edward closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering.

"Right before the Truth demanded it's price, it said to me, 'You're devotion to your brother is truly admirable, Edward Elric. You have a very strong heart.'"

"And then what?"

"Then it said, 'If the price is too much, I can easily bring your brother back and return him to his armour,' or something along those lines. I probably could have chosen just to let you go and not pay, but then, like I said, you would have died, and there was no way I was letting that happen. So I payed it's price."

"But what was it?" Alphonse demanded desperately.

"My heart." Ed said.

"What?" Al said, sounding like he wasn't certain he'd heard what he'd heard. "Your heart? But then...wouldn't you be dead?"

"Not exactly, Al." Ed reassured before his brother could panic. "It didn't take my heart, it just severely weakened it. It doesn't work properly like it used to. It doesn't have the ability to pump fast enough anymore, which means that I can't fight anymore without risking some sort of heart attack. The reason I cough up blood sometimes is-"

"Wait, you cough up blood?" Alphonse interrupted, letting go of Edward's wrist and sitting back for a minute. Maes noticed that Winry and Pinako weren't interjecting anything, and then he realized why. The two brother's had, by this point, drifted off into their own little world. He doubted if either of them even registered the fact that there were three other people in the room. "But, how?"

"Heart failure can cause a build up of fluid in the lungs." Edward said. "That can make me breathless and exhausted even when I haven't done anything to invoke it. It makes me cough. I think there must be some sort of bleeding somewhere in my respiratory system, which narrows it down to literally almost anywhere in the top half of my body, and when I cough too hard the blood comes up along with the kind of spit that normally comes out when you cough. I don't think that the bleeding is very severe, or I'd be feeling a lot worse even when I'm not coughing. But yeah...that's about it."

"Brother, why would you sacrifice all that? I'm not worth all this-" Alphonse began, but Edward never let him finish.

"No, Al." Ed cut in. "You were worth -are worth- every single second of it. Every drop of blood I cough up and every pathetic beat of my pathetic heart is worth your life, and don't you dare argue with me on this one, because we both know I'll win. It was worth it, Al, and I will never regret my decision. Ever." Maes didn't doubt a single word the older Elric said, and he could tell from the faces he looked at that no one else did either.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Edward had to take a deep breath to contain the rage at his brother for even suggesting that he wasn't worth the sacrifice Edward had made for him. Alphonse Elric was worth every single drop of sweat and blood, every ounce of pain, anguish and fear, he was worth it all, because he was Ed's little brother. It was his job to do everything in his power, and then some, to keep his brother out of harms way and safe from the dangers of the world. Edward had failed at his job once already, when he had convinced Al to perform Human Transmutation with him, he absolutely refused to fail at that job a second time.

And he hadn't held back in telling his brother that, either.

After he was finished his mini-monologue, he could see that Alphonse didn't have any kind of argument for him, so he relaxed a little. His gaze wandered for a moment, finally settling on the large window, that showed the exercise grounds behind it. He could see people out there, training, running, mock-fighting, and he was hit with a sudden urge to go outside and train himself. To breathe in fresh air, which he hadn't been able to get for too long already. "Excuse me." He said abruptly, jumping to his feet and running outside of the room, slamming the door shut behind him before anyone could stop him. Quickly he sprinted around the corner, stopping once he got past it to catch his breath. The length he had run was ridiculously short, already he felt breathless, as though he had run a mile. Stupid lungs, stupid heart, stupid everything, he thought childishly, taking in a few deep breaths through the collar and continuing onwards. He walked down the mostly empty corridors, ignoring the whisperings of people as he passed them, opting to take the stairs down instead of the elevator. The elevator would be more crowded, and he wanted to be alone right now. He wasn't sure he was exactly allowed to, but Alphonse thinking that Ed should not have saved him made him so mad that just had to let his energy out before he hurt someone.

As he walked, he thought about when he was a child. Being at home, with his mother and his brother. And even his father. Most children didn't remember things from when they were that little, but Edward did. He remembered that before Hohenheim had left, everything had been amazing. They had all been happy. They had all gotten along. Well...mostly. There was this one time, when Edward had been really little, and he had resented baby Alphonse, because the little boy had stolen all of the attention away from him, and he thought his mum hated him because she had a new baby now. After all, why would she have another baby if she didn't like the one she already had? His child logic was pleasantly amusing now. Back then, he had always been mean to Alphonse, hitting the baby over the head whenever the chance arose, with whatever he could find. The last time he had ever done it, it had been with a book. Alphonse had started crying, and Trisha Elric had demanded that Edward apologized. Instead, Ed had hit Al over the head again with his little fist and stormed off.

When he had got away, he sat down against a wall and sulked, muttering about how his mum hated him. Then Hohenheim had peeked out from behind the door of the bathroom, and told Edward to hold a bucket of water. Edward hadn't asked why, instead he had simply taken up that challenge, holding the bucket of water until he couldn't hold it any more, which had been about ten seconds after being told to hold it. Hohenheim peeked his head out again. "Giving up already, are you?" He'd said.

"It's too heavy." Ed grumbled.

"You know..." Hohenheim mused, "That bucket is about as heavy as you were when you were inside your mum's tummy, but she never stopped holding you because you were too heavy." Edward looked up at his dad, as the man with the beard and the glasses and the long hair continued. "So don't you ever say that your mother doesn't love you, Edward. Because if she didn't, she would never have carried you all that time. Now, run along, and be nice to your brother."

Edward had realized that his father was right, and had decided that there was no point being mean to his brother if he hadn't been replaced after all. He set out to find the little boy, and quickly did. His mum was walking down the hall in his direction, Alphonse clinging to his mother's dress and following along in little baby steps. Ed marched up to him, his hand outstretched. Alphonse flinched when Ed's hand made contact with his head, expecting to be hit. Instead, Edward ruffled his baby brother's hair, still scowling (because his arms hurt from holding the bucket), and walked off again. He remembered hearing his mother say something in surprise as he left, but he didn't remember what her words were.

There was another time he remembered, only barely, when his mother had hired a photographer to take a family picture of them, a few months after Ed had stopped hitting Al. She had held little Alphonse in her arms, while Hohenheim had held Edward. He had held Ed awkwardly, like he'd never held a child before in his life, his hands under Ed's armpits as his legs dangled in the air like spaghetti. His mother had told the man that one day she would be a wrinkled old monster herself, and that he shouldn't worry. That they were a family, no matter what. And to stop calling himself a monster, because it wasn't true. Are you sure, mum? Ed thought bitterly as he recounted the memory. Then she had said, 'Smile now, dear, he's taking the picture.' But instead of smiling, Edward's father had cried. Why had he cried? Was he so unhappy with his life with his wife and his children that when she said they were a family it upset him to the point of tears? Did he really hate his life and his family that much that he would cry when their only family photo was taken?

Bitter resentment for his father flooded through him, and he clenched back claws as he descended the last flight of stairs onto the ground floor of the military H.Q. He passed several more officers on his way outside to the exercise grounds, continuing to ignore their whispered taunts of monster, freak, whore, shrimp. Well, tried to. "I'm not short!" He growled under his breath at one private who had dared say the unspeakable. The private saluted him cockily but went on his way, muttering more things as he faded away into the distance where Ed couldn't hear him. When he finally managed to get where he wanted to be, everyone there stopped to stare at him as he moved over to the private combat area, which was specifically for practicing military-approved fighting methods with either a partner, or, if you had none, you ghost-fought. Not that Edward actually practiced the military taught stances. He did his own thing...well..his and Al's and Teacher's thing, anyway.

As he was practicing his flying kick at innocent air, feeling extremely out of breath but pushing through it, he suddenly felt a light tap on his shoulder, and, because he was in fast-reflex-fight-mode, he switched from a flying kick to a roundhouse hit, his fist catching the offender in the side. The man grumbled, but didn't move. It took a moment for Edward to realize who it was. Mustang. Ed scowled, jumping away a little bit.

"What do you want, bastard?" He growled.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No  
> You'll never be alone  
> When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars  
> Hear the whispers in the dark  
> No  
> You'll never be alone  
> When darkness comes you know I'm never far  
> Hear the whispers in the dark  
> Whispers in the dark
> 
> ~Whispers In The Dark (Skillet)

"What do you want, bastard?" Edward growled. Colonel Mustang raised an eyebrow a little.

"What? Don't look at me like I killed your cat or something, I was just curious as to what you were doing out here by yourself. Aren't you supposed to be under guard?"

"Technically...yes." Edward relented a little, not really caring. "But I was in there for hours explaining my situation to Alphonse and Winry and Granny, and I got sick of it, so I bailed. Got a problem with that?"

"I don't really care what you do at the moment, but don't think I'll let you get away with stuff like that once your under my guard." Ed blinked, trying to wrap his head around what the man was saying before he remembered that once Hakuro had had enough, he was getting passed along to Mustang, like a boring dog no one could be bothered feeding.

"Yeah, whatever." He muttered, flicking his wrist at the man to indicate that he did not give half a rat's ass. "As long as you don't beat me up I don't really care."

Mustang tilted his head, pondering the implications. "Are you saying that General Hakuro is beating you up," The man asked, "because if he is, I can file a complaint..."

"No! That's not what I meant!" Edward said, maybe a little too quickly, but if the Colonel noticed his uneasiness, he didn't comment on it. Quickly, Edward worked his brain to find some sort of save. "I meant that you used to beat me up!" Phew, close call. But it wasn't over that quickly.

"Edward...I..." The man said, and Ed could have sworn a look of shame crossed the man's features. "You have to understand, I was-"

"Oh, I understand, alright." Edward cut in, unconsciously grateful for the chance to finally vent out some of his anger and hurt that had been building up over the past few days. "You needed a good punching bag to let out some of the stress, right? And I was right there, perfectly available to use."

"No, that's not-" Mustang began, but again, Edward didn't let him finish.

"And it's not like I could tell anyone, not with you holding Al over my head I couldn't. Well guess what, you can't do that anymore! Because Alphonse is back to normal, which means you can't use him to control me anymore! Ha! I could tell anyone right now, and you couldn't stop me!"

"Edward, please just listen to me for once in your life!" Mustang yelled, and Edward couldn't help but fall silent. Mustang had taken a huge step forward and now he was really close to Edward...too close...just like the day when he'd...Edward gulped back the memory, not wanting for a second to relive it. He still had nightmares about the day Mustang had made talk in the library. When he'd held Edward on his lap as he forced him to describe his terrors in exchange for the information that had eventually led to him getting Al's body back. He didn't want to hear the man out, he didn't deserve Edward's attention, yet Edward found he couldn't look away. "Just listen to me. If there is anything I regret that doesn't involve the Ishval Campaign, it's hurting you! I was pissed off because I knew you were hiding something important from me and I couldn't get you to tell em what it was! Beating the answers out of you was the only way I could think of to get you to talk! I'm sorry!"

"Oh, you're sorry are you?" Edward said through gritted teeth, clenching his fists. Well, Mustang could be sorry all he wanted, but that wouldn't fix what he'd done. Edward had at least been born human, which meant he was still entitled to so many basic human rights, and Mustang had violated those rights, and on more than one occasion. Normally, Edward was the 'forgive and forget', type of person, depending on the situation. But this was one of the few situations where he couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that. It wasn't fair that Mustang thought he could just use him as he saw fit whenever he was in the mood to punch something. It wasn't right. Edward didn't deserve that kind of treatment. And he wouldn't stand for it anymore. He was sick of being pushed around, either by Mustang or by Hakuro, and while he couldn't really do much about the latter, he could sure as Hell take a stand against the former. He'd never been one to do as he was told as far as Roy Mustang was concerned anyway. "Yeah, well," he had it all worked out. In a split second, everything he had to say to the other alchemist was worked out in his head, and he knew how he was going to go about making Mustang realize that he wasn't a punch bag for hire. But as soon as those first two words left his lips, he lost all of it. His mind went blank, and he was left standing awkwardly with nothing to say. Red rose in his cheeks at the failure, and he scrambled to come up with something to say. "Just don't...I'm not, I mean, you can't...you can't do that to me." It wasn't what he'd had planned, but it got the general message across. It would have to do.

"I know. I won't let it happen again." Mustang said, shame disappearing from his face to be replaced with something a little more mischievous. "Now, seeing as we're here, how about a quick sparring session? I'll bet you haven't had the chance to do that for a while."

Edward blinked, running the Flame Colonel's words back through his head once more. Well...that certainly wasn't what he expected the man to say, and he hadn't even really been expecting anything. He'd supposed the man would just walk away. This was...the complete opposite of that. "Um, no, not since Al got his body back six months ago."

"You'll be pretty out of shape then. Might be a good chance for me to beat you." Mustang said, cocking an eyebrow in challenge.

"Even out of shape, I can still kick your pompous ass." Edward said, raising his fist in indication that he excepted the Colonel's invitation.

"Oh really, well, let's test that, shall we?" Without warning, the Colonel's foot suddenly shot out of nowhere, and Edward dodged it by a hair, the black military-issue boot sailing past his head. Quickly he ducked, clenched his right fist, and shot forward, aiming for the alchemist's stomach. Mustang jumped backwards, his hand scrabbling to catch Edward's wrist. Instantly a strategy formulated in Ed's mind, and he let the Colonel think he'd won, for just a split second, before a grin broke out across his face. He dropped to his knees, extending his right foot to the side and yanking his wrist downwards simultaneously. Mustang fell forward, tripped on Edward's leg, and, before he could regain his composure, Edward jumped back up and kicked the man's back, securing his victory in this small battle. His Commanding Officer fell to his face in the dirt, groaning. Edward laughed through his struggles to catch his breath. The fight had been a lot of fun, but his weak heart had struggled to keep up with it. He wasn't sure if Mustang actually knew about the condition his heart was in, but he doubted the man would care.

"See?" He taunted, helping the older man to his feet. "Told you." He ignored the slight itch in his throat and the taste of blood in his mouth.

"I let you win." Mustang said unconvincingly.

"Sure you did, Colonel Bastard."

"Think what you will, Major Shrimp."

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO TINY THAT EVEN ANTS WOULD NEED A MAGNIFYING GLASS TO SEE?" Edward raged.

"I never said that." The Colonel grunted, his eyes rolling. Despite the insult to his height, Edward felt better than he had in days. After nothing but hurt and awkwardness around the man for the better part of the year, it was good to get back to their old relationship of meaningless insults and wordless expressions. It could almost be as if nothing had ever happened to change that. Almost as if he'd never been kidnapped and experimented on.

Almost.

"Elric, what exactly do you think you're doing?" Hakuro's razor sharp voice cut through his bliss like a hot knife through butter, and he tensed up. He'd somehow managed to catch his breath by now, but suddenly the itch in his throat became more prominent, and he did a weird combination of grunting and coughing to try and get rid of it. It kind of worked, but not much. His brain searched for something to say -he didn't want to find out what would happen if it looked like he was ignoring the man again- but Mustang answered for him.

"We were just having a quick sparring session." The man said.

"Oh, is that so?" Hakuro asked, his eyes narrowing as he stopped in front of them. He was at least three times the size of Ed, and nearly twice Mustang's size. At least, that was how it looked from Ed's perspective, anyway. But, all the same... "Is that what brought you out here, Elric? Because the soldier I had stationed outside the room you were in reports that you ran off inexplicably without a word to anyone."

"I needed some fresh air." Edward explained, his eyes downcast, his voice small. He knew there was no sense in lying to the big man, he would only suffer for it later.

"Oh really? And you came down here, all by yourself, without an escort?" Hakuro inquired. "You know you're not allowed to be alone, Elric."

And just when Edward thought, that's it, I'm screwed, something messed up happened.

Mustang saved him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Mustang could tell by Edward's body language that he was terrified of Hakuro. The moment the General's voice had called out to him barely a minute ago, Edward had gone from relaxed and amused to stiff and confined. When Hakuro demanded what Ed was doing, his voice was filled with accusation. As though Edward had already been convicted for some sort of crime. Mustang knew Hakuro well enough by now to see, even through his side vision, that Edward needed an answer, quickly. Or else something would happen that neither of them would like. "We were just having a quick sparring session." He told the General, schooling his voice to make sure the man would not doubt him.

"Oh, is that so?" Hakuro said suspiciously. Edward made some sort of grunting noise, and Mustang knew that it must have been his throat. Maes had told him all about - well, not all about what had happened to Ed, but enough to know what the cough meant. He had over-exerted himself during their spar. But Maes had also told him something that they both doubted even Edward had figured out yet. The young alchemist coughed when he was stressed. Mustang only wished he knew why he was quite so stressed out. "Is that what brought you out here, Elric? Because the soldier I had stationed outside the room you were in reports that you ran off inexplicably without a word to anyone."

"I needed some fresh air." Ed said quietly. Mustang had to prevent himself from frowning. Edward never talked that quietly, not to anyone. He was always so loud and outspoken; this was a side Mustang had never seen in the boy before. His eyes were looking down at the grass beneath his feet, and Mustang knew that was a sign that Ed either didn't know what to say, or, the theory that had spawned in his head just now, that he was too scared to say anything. What the Hell had Hakuro done to make the Goddamn Fullmetal Alchemist this afraid?

"Oh really? And you came down here, all by yourself, without an escort? You know you're not allowed to be alone, Elric." Hakuro said. Only someone who knew Ed as well as he did would have seen it, but a flash of fear crossed the young alchemist's eyes, and Mustang knew that if Hakuro didn't receive and answer then Edward was going to be much more afraid later on.

"I brought him down here." He said. Both Ed's and Hakuro's heads shot to face him, and it occurred to him that neither of them had expected him to answer. "I found him just outside the room he'd left and decided to bring him outside. He looked like he needed it, and I am technically his Commanding Officer after all. It's my job to look after my subordinates." If it was still possible, Hakuro's eyes narrowed even further, but, after a moment of apparent contemplation, he unscrewed them, nodding.

"Very well." He said. "Mustang, your help is much appreciated. You'll do a fine job once you take custody. As for you." His gaze returned to the young child, and Ed's eyes immediately dropped back to the ground. "I'm going to have to remind you of your place, but later. I have work to do."

"Yes, sir." Edward murmured.

"Good day, Colonel."

"Good day, General." Mustang responded, saluting as the General turned on his heel and walked back to the main building. "Edward, what was that?" He asked, turning back to the boy. Ed was still watching the ground, his hands clenched into fists, shaking.

"I don't...know." Edward replied, his voice trembling.

"Don't lie to me, Fullmetal." Mustang said sternly. "Tell me what's wrong. Please." He added at the end, remembering what Maes had said about trust.

"Why...why did you help me?" Ed asked, after a few moments of loud silence.

"Because you looked afraid." He said without hesitation.

"I was not afraid!" Edward denied, glaring up at his Commanding Officer. "And even if I was, since when have you been interesting in helping me? I can deal with my own problems!"

"Edward." Mustang huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I was in a war, remember? I know what fear looks like. Hakuro may or may not have seen it on your face, but I saw it in your eyes. Why are you scared of him? What did he do?"

"Nothing. He didn't do anything. And you're skills are getting worse, Colonel, because you're starting to say things that aren't true. Maybe you should get your eyes checked."

"Maybe you should stop trying to deny things that are obvious." The Flame Alchemist retorted. Edward sucked in air through his teeth, and Mustang noticed a brief flash of claws at his fingertips before the Fullmetal regained control of his emotions and pulled them back.

"I'm not afraid." Edward repeated slowly. Mustang realized he'd made a mistake by asking him what he was scared of. He'd never admit anything now that he knew Mustang could see it. He might have to Maes, but definitely not to Mustang. "And I sure as Hell don't need your help."

"Your pride is getting in your way again, Ed." Both of them whipped around to see Maes heading towards them, Alphonse in tow. "Just thank the man."

"Why should I?" Edward grumbled.

"Because he helped you. I know you don't want to admit it, but Mustang just saved your ass." Maes said, standing beside Ed and clapping him on the back. Ed winced, and Mustang was certain he saw a brief flash of pain cross his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, so he dismissed it, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"Whatever. Thanks, Colonel." Ed relented, grumbling as he rolled his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it." Mustang said, hoping that Maes would let it go. If he kept pressuring Edward it would only make matters worse, and the Colonel was trying to work on fixing the issues between the two, not complicating them. He really did regret what he had done to Ed. And he'd said the truth. In his experience, people usually talked once you started hitting them too hard. But Edward was a special case; he should have realized from the start that it would never work. But what he regretted most was that afternoon at the library...he had no idea what had gotten into him. He'd had a particularly crap nightmare about his father, and he hadn't been able to concentrate on his work all day, so he took a few hours off to go to the library for 'research purposes', and then Fullmetal had arrived and his brain had just gone haywire, thinking about his nightmare, both sleeping and waking, and an overwhelming urge to know if it had hurt Edward as much as it had hurt him had possessed him, and he'd just...let it happen. He'd been disgusted with himself afterwards, but during he could only feel the need to know.

"Oh, I won't." Edward said, moving to stand away from Mustang and next to Maes, pulling at his dog-collar with one finger. Mustang had no idea how Ed had managed to fight him in that thing, but, to be fair, it wasn't really much of a fight. It had all been over in the space of about twenty, maybe thirty seconds. It hadn't taken long for the crippled teen to beat Mustang. That was going to have to change. Once Edward was handed over into his custody, he'd show him that he wouldn't be so easily beaten. Not again. He'd make the older Elric realize who was superior, one way or another. He was probably going to have to work out more.

Yeah...he'd work out more. Hakuro probably wouldn't want to hold on to the kid for much longer, maybe a week or so more. Then it would be Mustang's turn to look after him. That would be enough time to get stronger than Fullmetal. And then he'd show the kid that he was the one in charge.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Edward had at first thought that Mustang had done him a favour by saving his ass from Hakuro, but now he just wanted to pummel the man. How dare he think Edward was afraid! How dare he think that Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, was afraid of anything, let alone a regular human with no special...well, anything! Ed was better than that, and the stupid Colonel should have known that. But...what angered Edward the most...was that he was right.

Edward was afraid of Hakuro, and with good reason, but Mustang didn't know that...did he? He couldn't possibly have known what Hakuro had done to him last night, so what did he know? How could he see that Edward was afraid? It didn't make sense! He had made himself avoid all eye contact with the huge man so that no one would see it, he had kept his fists clenched so that their shaking wouldn't be quite so noticeable, so...how did he know? It wasn't fair, dammit! It wasn't fair that of all people, it had to be Mustang who figured it out first! He knew he should be grateful to the man for figuring it out and helping him...but he just couldn't bring himself to. He was going to be clobbered tonight anyway for simply leaving the room by himself, so what did it matter? His back still screamed at him from what had happened last night, and it hurt even more so from the short time it took to drop Mustang, so what did a little more pain matter?

Everything in his life had fallen apart so easily, like a badly sewn shirt that had split at the seams, just because he had decided to get up early and go to the library one morning. He should have waited. Should have let Al come along, then this entire thing would never have happened. But no, he was stupid, irrational, childish, and he went by himself. That was what had led to all this: one stupid decision.

"Hey, Ed?" Ed looked up to see Maes looking down on him, worry etched on his face.

"Oh, sorry, what was that?" Edward asked sheepishly.

"I was just thinking, you don't look so good. Are you okay?" He asked.

"Fine." Edward said. Maes didn't look convinced, and a brief glance at his little brother, beside the older man, told him that neither did Al.

"Whatever. If you say so Ed." Maes said, apparently brushing it off. That was what Ed liked about Maes, among many other things. He could tell when Ed was lying, but didn't push things. "Come on, let's go get a bite to eat. I'm starved." A quick laugh from the older man and then he slapped Edward's back in a friendly gesture. Edward bit his tongue to hold back a gasp as his father figure's hand made harsh contact with the ragingly painful marks caused by Hakuro's beating from the previous night. He lost his balance and stumbled forward, his legs and shoulders shaking with the pain.

"What's wrong, brother?" Al exclaimed, rushing forward to help him.

"Nothing, Al." Ed choked out through the collar around his neck, struggling to contain the urge to cough that had built up. "Just caught me by surprise." He lied.

"O-okay brother." Al said, his voice small. Ed looked up to see both Maes and Mustang looking down at him, father-like worry across the former's features, concerned curiosity across the latter's.

"Come on Ed, there's a special I don't want to miss in the cafeteria!" Maes broke the tense silence, cheerfully grabbing Ed's wrist and pulling him along back to the main building. Ed noticed out of the corner of his eye that Al stayed behind to talk to Mustang, but he wasn't worried. Mustang had never shown any interest in hurting Al before, just Ed. Besides, he was Ed's Commanding Officer, and besides that, e was an adult. You could trust adults. Right? Wasn't that the entire point of the military? To protect the country and it's citizens? Well, Al was a citizen. Really, Ed had nothing to worry about. All the same...he couldn't help but feel a tad uneasy as he was pulled further away until they were out of sight.

They walked through the building, Ed doing his best to ignore the stares they got, Maes glaring at anyone he could who dared. It occurred to Ed that this was the fist actual alone time he'd had with his father figure since the incident three days ago, and found himself smiling, ever-so-slightly. He enjoyed Maes' company just as much as he enjoyed Al's, even more so almost. Since Alphonse had returned from Resembool to Central, Ed had found himself growing steadily more distant from his brother. His goal to get Al his body back had never wavered, but still, there had been some sort of gap, and, Ed knew it was because of his secrecy with his brother, and he knew it was his fault, but all the same, the loss he felt weighed heavy on him. It had somehow gotten worse since Al had been restored. Al was still a kid, he was still eleven, due to turn twelve in a few months. He still had all the energy and playfulness of the young boy that he was, and Edward just...didn't. Despite all they had been through, Al's love of goofing around had never really diminished all that much, and he burned off his mental energy when they sparred when he had been in the armour, but now that he was a flesh and blood person, there were more ways he could burn it off.

He played with Elicia a lot, and, while she managed to be a very energetic little two year old, she couldn't keep up with him either. Maes often took them all to the park, where Al could play with the other kids his own age. It did the youngest Elric a lot of good, and he'd even made a bunch of friends here in Central, and he even went and visited them from time to time. Al had asked Ed why he didn't play with them, but Ed had just shook his head and said that he was too old to play. It was partially true. But the truth was he just didn't want to. The idea of playing about with other children had lost it's appeal to him so long ago that he barely even remembered even having it. And as well as that, even if he did want to, he lacked the energy and the physical strength to do it. If he tried, he'd probably just end up coughing up blood everywhere. So instead of that, he'd just sat on the bench with Maes and watched the other kids. Maes had never questioned his motives like Al, he had known without asking. That was another reason that he always felt more comfortable around him than his brother: Maes knew when to pry and when not to. Al didn't have that gift.

"Hey, Ed." Maes broke Ed out of his thoughts and Ed looked up at the man as they walked.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Watcha thinkin' about?"

"Just about Al." Edward answered honestly. He never felt the need to lie or to hide around Hughes, either. Just another bonus. He could say what he felt without fear of being judged. "About how we've been drifting apart lately." Maes nodded, and gestured for Ed to continue. "We achieved our goal. He has his body back now, and he has his own life now. His own friends. He's the type of person who'd rather spend the entire day with those friends, playing and having fun and just being...kids. I can't do that."

"I understand what you mean, Ed." Maes said thoughtfully. "I get how you're feeling. I've watched it happen these past six months and I've tried my best not to interfere. I know that if you really want it to change, then one of you will do something about it, without my help. So, if I may ask, why haven't you?"

Edward ducked his head, ashamed of the reason. He briefly considered doing what he would have done a year ago: saying he didn't know, or it was none of the man's business, or simply changing the subject and avoiding the subject all together. But Edward had matured just a little bit since then, and besides, Maes had done too much for him to deserve that. "Because...because it's easier this way." He said penitently. Maes stopped walking suddenly, and Edward stopped beside him, his guilt stricken gaze locked on the white tiles of the floor of H.Q.

"It's...easier? How?" Maes asked.

"It's kind of hard to explain. Bu I'll try." He said swallowing, glancing up with his eyes at Maes but not moving his head. "I mean, this way, Al get's to live his life without me there to drag him into even more mistakes. I won't get in his way like this. And..."

"And what? Ed?"

"And if I'm not there all the time, he won't have to be reminded of what I gave up to get him back." He looked up at the older man, and he could see pain in those moss green eyes that sat behind spectacles. "I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me now that he knows. He feels guilty because I gave up so much to save him. He's too young, he doesn't need that kind of guilt in his life. He needs to do what he's been doing, going out to the park and playing with friends and just to be a little kid. How is he supposed to do that with me there, always pulling him down?" Silence stretched on after his mini-monologue, and Edward swallowed again, absentmindedly tugging at the collar.

"My God Ed, if we weren't in the middle of the military H.Q I'd hug you right now." Maes said at last. Edward blinked.

"Wh...why?"

"Because you're so painful to listen to, that's why."

"Sorry, what?"

"You always think of everybody else before you think of yourself. You're so worried about you brother and what he wants or needs that you don't stop for a moment to think about yourself. I didn't hear you list one single reason why it would be bad for you if you fixed your relationship with him. Only all the reasons it would be bad for him." Maes pushed his glasses up on his face, sighing slightly. Edward felt colour rise to his cheeks as he realized the man was right. Truth be told, he hadn't even thought about any reasons why it would benefit him to leave things the way they were. Only about Al. That was just how he was, his brother first and foremost, then everybody else, and then him. Even as a kid, when they had been trying to bring back their mother, Edward had been doing it for Alphonse. He had known that he wasn't what his little brother needed at that age. He had needed a mother, not a brother. He needed their mum, not him. Hell, Edward didn't know how to raise a kid. But mum did. Because she was mum. So he had tried his hardest and then some to bring her back so she could look after Al, and very, very rarely had he really thought about how much he needed her as well.

Ed really didn't know how he was supposed to respond to that, so he said nothing. Maes just smiled down at him sadly, before giving him a light tap on the shoulder. "Come on kiddo, food's waiting."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Close your eyes  
> Drive away the cloud that hides the light  
> And leave the pain behind  
> Dead alive  
> Find a way to bury all the lies  
> Escape the hate inside  
> 'Cause I don't want to fall or let you go
> 
> ~Hollow (Breaking Benjamin)

Riza watched as Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Edward ate lunch. Not for any particular reason, really, but she liked watching Ed. Liked watching the small, hurt boy learn each day that he wasn't alone on the world. That there were people he could depend on, people who loved him and would help him. She liked that he had finally figured out that it was okay to let others in.

She watched as Hughes at all of his food like a starving wolf, and Edward picked at his meagre meal, pushing it all around with his fork. She could see from Hughes' expression that he did not approve, but the man kept his mouth shut, instead trying to engage Edward in completely irrelevant and pointless conversation about whatever it was that he was rambling about. She could see the fight in golden eyes as the young boy tried to pay attention and seem interested, but his eyes kept wandering, becoming distant and inattentive. Maes pretended not to notice.

When the bell that signalled lunch break was over rang, Riza realised she hadn't gotten round to actually getting any food for herself. Shrugging to herself, she made her way back to the office, deciding she would just have to go without. Her stomach rumbled slightly, but she hit it lightly with her fist to shut it up. She wasn't exactly sure how that trick worked, but somehow it did.

She was, as usual, the first back in the office when she arrived. Sitting at her desk, she pulled out the case files she was working on and laid them out in front of her, scanning them - again. She had pulled out these exact files ever single day of the week since Hughes had handed her the case files and asked her to find whatever she could. She had promised him she would do everything she could to uncover the truth, whatever that may be. So far, she had looked at the pictures the file contained, found evidence of military involvement in three of them, and the rest of them...nothing more than sights that made her want to vomit up her breakfast. The written content of the file wasn't much use to her either, it was mostly the alchemic process of making Ed what he was, and how they had trained him to use his new...gift, for want of a better word. If she couldn't find anything else over the next day or two, she was going to have to admit she'd found nothing useful and give the papers to Mustang to try and decipher the alchemic parts.

Rubbing her temples, she studies the papers again as the rest of Mustang's staff -and Mustang himself - trickled in, all of them taking out their own work and getting started. After an hour of study, with still no new results, she put her head in her hands, closing her eyes and relaxed herself in an attempt to fight of the ache that had manifested in the front of her head.

"You okay Hawkeye?" She heard Mustang ask.

"Headache." She responded simply.

"You need to take a break?" He said.

"I'm fine, really." She answered.

"If you say so."

"I do."

She opened one eye a fraction and peeked through her fingers to see him watching her intently. Pretending she hadn't noticed, she went back to looking at the papers in front of her, looking but not really seeing the content of the pages. Doing her best not to look at her Commanding Officer, she could not shake the feeling that she was being watched. She ignored it for a good five minutes before she finally said:

"If you're not going to work, you could at least stop distracting me from mine, Colonel."

"I don't know what you mean." He said, his tone anything but convincing. "I haven't done anything."

"Nothing except watch me." She said.

Mustang said nothing in response, turning away, but Hawkeye didn't miss the faint hint of red in his cheeks as he did so. Confusion swamped her. Why would he be blushing, she wondered. After a few seconds of pondering she settled on embarrassment at being caught. But then she stumbled onto another confusing question.

Why had he been watching her?

Perhaps he hadn't been. Perhaps he'd simply become lost in thought and his eyes had just wandered that way of their own accord. But she couldn't help but feel like (or perhaps it was hope more than anything) that that wasn't the case. He had been watching her, and her alone. But why? He had a girlfriend, that high class Diamond Robinson that she had met once and instantly despised. Maybe he's changed his mind about her? She thought, remembering his words all those months ago about how 'this one might be it' or something along those lines. Maybe he didn't like her anymore.

To be honest, she was completely surprised that they were even still together after all this time. Normally with Roy Mustang you were either a one night fling or an informative disguised as a date. She could always tell whether or not he was meeting an informant based on his tone when he told her he had a date. If it was excited: actual date. If not: informant meeting.

And Diamond Robinson had been no informant.

Rolling her eyes to herself, she kept working.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The day couldn't end soon enough.

Sighing with exhaustion, Hawkeye was glad when seven o'clock rolled around and she could go home. While she had been trying to find anything new in the photographs, a thought had occurred to her. She had a friend outside the military, a woman named Marilyn Kyle, who was an exceptional sketch artist, and could construct faces from outlines she was that good. She had a natural talent enhanced with years of practise, and it Riza thought that perhaps Marilyn would be willing to help her.

As she left the office, she gathered up a few photos and placed them carefully in her pocket, waving nobody goodbye, because she was the last one to leave, as always. Somebody had to make sure Mustang's office stayed in order, and it sure as Hell wasn't Mustang that did it.

Rolling her eyes, she walked down the halls of Central Headquarters, which was still bustling, soldiers wandering here, there and everywhere, most likely heading home, but others still running back to offices for whatever reasons they had for not going home at this hour.

As she finally walked out of the glass doors that separated the huge military building from the city itself, she breathed in a breath of fresh air, smiling. It had been a while since she'd visited Marilyn, and it would be good to catch up. Hopefully she still lived at the same apartment that she was in last time they met.

Hawkeye found her car in the parking lot and pulled her keys from one of the many pockets of her uniform, slipping the third largest key into the lock on the door and twisting it. She watched the indoor locks pop up and pulled the key out, opening the door and plopping herself into the drivers seat. She turned on the car and set it into first gear, checking the roads were mostly clear before pulling out into the traffic, switching to second gear once she was going. She drove through Central's busy streets, checking and double checking the street signs until she found her friends address. When she finally found the apartment complex, she pulled onto the side of the road, turned off and locked her car, and walked inside. Not bothering with the elevator, she walked up two flights of stairs and found the number of her friend's apartment, and rapped on the door.

"Just a minute!" Marilyn called from inside. She listened as light footsteps made their way to the door, paused to check the peep-hole, and then the door opened and Marilyn was standing before her.

Marilyn was a good looking woman, of average height, with black hair and brown eyes. She was a little bit paler than most people, due to spending so much time indoors working on her art projects. Tonight she wore a hot pink t-shirt covered with eraser rubbing's and a black skirt the ended at her ankles. Also covered in eraser rubbing's. Her long black hair was stuck up in a messy bun, and she had a pencil stuck between her ear and her head. Typical Marilyn.

"Riza!" She exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across her face. "It's been nearly two years! Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry I haven't visited in so long. I was promoted to First Lieutenant and don't have as much time as I used to." She explained.

"Oh that's great! When were you promoted?"

"Two years ago." She said. Marilyn smacked her head.

"Right. Ask a stupid question." She muttered to herself. "Anyway, come in! Would you like a coffee?" She pulled the door open and gestured inside, and Hawkeye came in.

"A coffee would be great, thank you." She said truthfully. Marilyn led her into the kitchen and put a kettle of water on to boil, and sat down at the small table that had only two chairs. Much like her own table set, actually.

"So, what brings you here?" Marilyn asked.

"Actually, I was hoping you might do me a small favour." She told her.

"Oh? What is it?" Her friend leaned forward over the table, her hands folded under her chin and a look of excitement on her face. Hawkeye pulled the photographs from her pocket and laid them out over the table, pulling an invisible mask over her face so as to hide the sick feeling she felt every time she had to look at them. Marilyn scanned the photos and was unable to hide her own look of horror over what they contained. "I don't understand." She whispered eventually.

"Try not to look at the..." She began, but then found she didn't know how to specify exactly what not to look at, so she tried again. "Focus on the blue in the corner, could you?" She asked. Marilyn nodded and looked at the blue areas of the photos for a few moments each before saying;

"Military?"

"We think so, but we can't identify who exactly it is." She said. Marilyn, quick witted as she was, caught on almost instantaneously.

"You want me to make a sketch." She said, knowing without asking.

"Do you think you can?"

"I think I can certainly try. Give me a few days with them and I'll do my best." She told her.

"That's all I ask." Hawkeye responded.

"Riza?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask what..."

"I'm not allowed to disclose that information at the moment." Hawkeye said automatically. "Sorry." She added, remembering it was her friend she was talking to.

"That's okay." She nodded in understanding, and Hawkeye felt grateful that she wasn't going to be pressed for answers she couldn't give.

"So." Marilyn said, and they began to small talk, discussing the latest news and catching up on what each other had been doing these past two years. They talked for about an hour and a half before Hawkeye realised that she was going to have difficulty waking up in the morning if she didn't get home and go to bed. She said goodnight to her friend and promised to visit more frequently, then left, heading to her car. As she walked out of the building, she noticed a lone figure sitting on a park bench underneath the yellow light of a street lamp. The figure was definitely male, and he was watching her.

She pretended not to notice him, turned towards her car, and quietly pulled out her pistol. Holding it behind her back, she then proceeded to walk over to the man. "Hello." She called.

He said nothing.

"Is there something I can do for you?" She asked, tightening her grip on the pistol. Still he said nothing. "Hello?" She tried again. "Can you hear me." His eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you know where I can find the Flame Alchemist." He said at last.

"Why do you want to know where he is?" She asked sceptically.

"Can you tell me where he is?"

"Why?"

The man stood up, quickly, and, upon reflex, she yanked up her arm and aimed the pistol at him, grabbing her right hand (her gun hand) with her left for balance. She had already flicked off the safety. The man was unflinching in the face of a potential bullet. Not saying a word, he turned and walked away, and she did not lower her gun until he had turned the corner and was out of sight. She let go of a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding when he was gone, and flicked the safety back on her gun before holstering it once more.

"That was odd," She muttered to herself. "I wonder what he wanted with the Colonel." Shrugging one shoulder, she made her way back to the car and started up the engine, pulled out from the curb and turned around, heading back to her apartment, noting vaguely that the odd man had also headed in this direction. She didn't see him as she made her way across the city, though. After a few minutes of driving, she came back to her place of residence, and took in a deep breath when she saw his figure standing outside in the cold.

Mustang.

Unsure, she pulled up her car in her assigned park and hopped out, locking it as she went. Her eyes locked with the Colonel's as she crossed the road, and her middle finger twitched.

"Good evening, Lieutenant." He said.

"Good evening, Colonel." She said back. "Might I ask how long you've been waiting here?"

"Since I left work." He responded, and she resisted the urge to sigh and roll her eyes.

"I did tell you I was taking those photos over to my friend to try and identify our mystery man, didn't I?" She asked him.

"You did. You didn't tell me you were going to be nearly two hours." He said.

"I haven't seen her for two years since I was promoted, I would think the time I spent catching up was self implied."

"Perhaps. Nevertheless, I would like to take a walk with you." She blinked.

"Oh? For what purpose?"

"You'll see." On the one hand, she needed to go to bed. But on the other, a quiet part of her relished the idea to walk alone with him at night, just to be near him. Without the military duties, just to be near him.

"I suppose so." She said at last. He offered her his elbow, but she did not take it. Hawkeye didn't miss the quickly disguised surprise on his face, but the man took it in his stride, as he did everything else, and pretended he'd simply been stretching. They began to walk down the brightly lit footpath, turning the corners as they came, in silence. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Mustang looking thoughtful, but also unsure. His gloved hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. His lips were turned down into a slight frown. "Sir? Are you okay?" She asked, and Mustang stopped. She stilled her strides beside him, her chest tight. Something was wrong. He didn't look right. Didn't look okay.

"Hawkeye...I need to-"

"Aww, what's wrong, Mustang? Something on your mind?" Hawkeye whipped around, swiftly drawing her gun and clicking off the safety, aiming at her surroundings. She knew that voice, had heard it before. A man stepped from the shadows, and she recognised him as the man that had been outside Marilyn's apartment.

"It's you!" She said.

"Hello, Lieutenant Hawkeye." The man said. "I wouldn't bother, you can't hurt me with that." He added, indicating her gun with a glance of his head.

"How do you know my name?" She asked.

"Unimportant." He brushed aside her question as though she had asked him if he had a dog at home. And, now that she looked closer at him, she wasn't even sure if he was a 'he'. His voice was masculine, but the rest of him...wasn't. He wore a close fitting halter top and an also close fitting pair of shorts with a large swathe of the same coloured fabric protruding seemingly from within the shorts at the front and back, making it look like a large skirt. On his left outer thigh, there was a tattoo of a red dragon curled into a circle and biting it's own tail. The dragon had two wings, three horns and there appeared to be two overlapping triangles inside the circle made by the dragon's body.

The man also wore long gauntlet-like gloves and a pair of leggings that left the heel and the toes open to the air. No shoes, she noted. Odd. His hair was long and black, and the particular way it had been styled resembled, at least to Hawkeye, that of a mandrake, or even a palm tree. He also wore a headband with three circles at three different places, interconnected by three thick lines.

His eyes were what drew her into him the most, though. They were a deep purple colour, pupils slit like a cat's. And they were cold. Cold and cruel.

"What do you want?" She tried.

"Not much, really." He said. "Just the good Colonel over there." She twitched her finger over the trigger, just as a warning.

"I've already told you, human, that thing can't hurt me, so you might as well put it away for all the good it will do you." A broad grin stretched across his face, and his eyes flashed. "So, come with me, Mustang, and your girlfriend over there won't get hurt." Nobody moved, and the man grinned even wider.

"I guess we get to do this the hard way." He said, and stepped forward. A million warning signals went off in her brain, telling her that this man wasn't to be trusted, and she reacted within a split second, yanking her trigger finger back and sending a bullet flying into the man's shoulder. Blood sprayed and the man dropped to the ground screaming.

"Colonel, get back." She said. "Go back to H.Q now."

"Lieutenant, you shot him, he's not going anywhere." He responded, not moving.

"Colonel, go back to Headquarters."

"Really, Lieutenant -"

"Shh!" She cut him off, eyeing the screaming man warily. Something was off...that wasn't screaming, that was...

Laughter.

"Colonel run!" She screamed, pushing him away, just in time for the androgynous man to fly past him, an attack that missed. Before she could react any further, the man had wrapped his hand around her throat and lifted her into the air. Panic filled her and she emptied her chamber into his head, but it didn't even phase him.

"Lieutenant!" She heard Mustang scream, but it sounded so far away. Her ears were beginning to ring and her pulse was pounding underneath her skull. Pulling out another two guns from their holsters, she aimed for the man's eyes, trying to blind him. Red lightning sparked from his body every time she shot him, and she watched -through ever worsening vision- as his eyes repaired themselves over and over again. Soon both of her guns were emptied. But she had one more, holstered around her thigh. All she had to do was reach the split of her military work skirt and she would have it. Logic wasn't registering any more. She knew that the guns weren't working, but she needed to have it in her hand. Is she could just concentrate...

"Let her go!" Mustang hollered.

"Come with me and I will." He said.

"No!" He snarled. "Let her go now!"

"C-Colonel..." She choked out. "Go. Leave me."

"I could never!" He shouted, his horror evident.

"Go!"

"Never!" Knowing that he was too stubborn to listen, she snapped her fingers. Understanding dawned on his face, and she barely heard him whisper "Sorry" before he raised his hand and snapped. Fire burst forth from his fingers like the breath of a dragon, leaping towards her and the man who held her. She squeezed her eyes shut as the heat surrounded them, or, more specifically, surrounded the monster in human flesh, and he screamed in agony as the fire ate away at him, dropping her. Gasping for breath as she hit the ground hard, she hurriedly patted out the flames that licked at her clothing.

Realising this was her chance, she quickly grabbed the gun holster strapped to her thigh and tore the gun from it, thankful that she hadn't been reproved yet for slitting the side of her skirt to make an extra gun accessible.

The man, who was currently engulfed in flames, snapped his head up at the sound of her clicking off her safety and leapt at her, prying the gun from her hands - but not before she could fire four consecutive bullets into his chest -, hitting her chin with his elbow and sending her stumbling backwards. She heard the sound of her gun being fired, and she screamed, but the bullet had missed Mustang completely, hitting the wall of the house building beside him with a sharp ting. Horror and dread filled her as she saw from the corner of her eye that the man's second shot would not miss, and, just before he pulled the trigger a second time, and she reacted without a second thought, leaping in front of her Colonel just as the bullet left the gun.

A sharp pain exploded in her left shoulder and she screamed, dropping to the ground and clutching her wound. Vaguely, she heard a scream that might have been Mustang, and a shout of anger that might have been their mystery man. Through her agony she didn't hear his frustration at finding the gun had been emptied of bullets, didn't hear him toss the now useless weapon to the ground, didn't notice him slip into the shadows, his attempt having failed.

Blood seeped from the wound, warm and sticky as it stained her hand and her clothing.

"Riza!" Mustang screamed, and the noise made her head spin even more. She felt his arms slide under her neck and her knees, and then he was picking her up and the movement sent knives of pain stab her wound and she bit the insides of her cheek so as not to scream again.

"You shouldn't have done that!" He growled as he began to run, and the constant jarring did nothing to ease her pain.

"I...had...to..." She panted, doing her best to block the agony.

"No, you should have just let him shoot me, dammit!" Mustang argued.

"And what kind of...friend would I be...if I let that happen?" Either she didn't hear his response, or he didn't make one, but either way, it didn't matter. Because in a few seconds, the pain became too overwhelming, and she passed out.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The first thing she felt when she woke was a faint pain in her left shoulder. The second thing she felt was a very unnatural fuzzy feeling. Tiredly, she opened her eyes. She already knew she was in a hospital because of the beeping from the heart monitor she was apparently attached to, and because of the almost overwhelming smell of cleansing chemicals, but her eyes confirmed what she already knew once they were opened. The room was pure white, with a small window to her left, letting the bright sunshine warm the room.

Slumped against a plush chair to her right was Mustang, head resting uncomfortably on the back of the chair, eyes closed, snoring faintly, asleep. She could see the bags under his eyes, like this was the first time he'd gotten any sleep since...how long had it been since she'd been shot, anyway? She had, at the very least, been asleep for over twelve hours, because it looked to be around midday or mid morning outside. Another glance at Mustang and she noticed that he'd at least gone home at some point and changed clothes. Right now he was wearing a dark blue shirt that hung loosely around his frame, a pair of black pants, and, to her amusement, she noticed the toes of military issue boots peeking out behind the hem of the pants. His normally immaculate hair was a bit dishevelled, clearly he hadn't put too much thought into brushing it this morning.

She didn't know how long she sat there watching him, but eventually he woke up, and, when he opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep groggily, he saw she was watching and sat up a bit straighter.

"You're awake." He said, relief evident in his voice.

"So are you." She responded.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Not quite as well as I normally do." She stated. Mustang gave her a look for a moment, and then dropped his head, his long black hair falling over his face and hiding from her his eyes. She knew him well enough to know what he was feeling. Shame. Guilt. Self-loathing. He had allowed her to get hurt, and he blamed himself for that. He blamed himself for allowing that inhuman man to even consider harming a member of his team.

He blamed himself for a decision that had been hers.

"Don't do that." She said quietly.

"Do what?" He asked, his voice low.

"Blame yourself. I know that's what you're doing, Roy." His head raised. She rarely ever called him Roy. "You're blaming yourself for a decision that I made, and I want you, need you, to stop right now. I chose to take that bullet."

"But you shouldn't have." He said at last. "You shouldn't have even had to do that. I should have responded quicker, should have torched that thing before it even got near you that first time. But my mind was frozen. I couldn't think. The only thing that was registering in me was that it had you and that you were going to die." His voice cracked on the last word, and it was then that she realised that he really did care for her. He didn't show it, possibly intentionally, possibly unintentionally, she didn't know, but he did care. She smiled at him.

"Like I'd leave you alone here." She whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. He shut his eyes, but couldn't keep the sheen from his eyes when he opened them. His black eyes were pained. Pained and scared. She had seen fear in his eyes before, so many times during the Ishvalan Civil War -which was less a war than a massacre of the helpless- and she hated it. She hated seeing such a strong man so scared. It had been the worst time of his life and hers, and any moment that reminded her of the man he had been forced to become then made her chest tighten and her breath short.

The silence stretched on, and she felt as though if she broke it it would be similar to shattering a glass window. She needed to let Mustang do it, or he was just going to keep feeling worse and worse and keep all of his emotions bottled up, and it would kill him inside.

"I know you wouldn't..." It was almost five minutes before he finally spoke the words, but it was such a relief to finally have the silence broken at last. "I know you wouldn't leave me here, but..."

"But what?" She asked gently.

"Nothing." He said. "Never mind."

"Please, Colonel, what is it?"

"It's nothing, really." He reached over and squeezed her hand before standing up. "I should go let the doctors know that you're awake. You've been asleep for almost two days now." The surprise of learning how long she'd been out hit her, but not as hard as the fact that he was going to leave. She wanted him, needed him, to stay here with her. She needed to know he would be safe, but she also needed his company. She needed him to stay and talk and just be there.

"I'll be back soon." He said. "I just need some time to calm down a bit. I've been in edge waiting for you to wake."

"Colonel." She said.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking back over his shoulder at her.

"No drinking." She knew that when he was stressed he had a bad habit of taking to alcohol as a means of trying to avoid it, and she didn't like it when he drank. One or two drinks was okay, but once he had more than that he became violent and irrational, and she didn't want him to add a hangover and potential assault charges to his ever-growing list of problems. "I mean it."

"Sure." He said, a small smile creeping onto his face, and he gave her a small wave and walked out the door without another word, and in that moment, she knew two things.

Firstly, that smile had been fake.

And he had lied.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Break my bones and reset me   
> Piece by piece you break me   
> Pick up the cross 'cause it's killing time   
> How can I scream when the pain is   
> Such a release I get the courage   
> To pick up the nails 'cause it's killing time
> 
> Kill me, heal me   
> Kill me, heal me   
> On and on   
> Kill me, heal me   
> Kill me, heal me   
> On and on
> 
> ~Kill Me, Heal Me (Skillet)

The very night Ed enjoyed lunch with Hughes, General Hakuro and Edward stayed in the private dormitory suite again. The General at least allowed Ed to eat dinner this time before he barrelled into him, keeping good on his assurance earlier that day that he would 'remind him' of his place. The beating was brutal, and Edward took it silently, refusing to scream, even as he was whipped again with his own collar, that, no matter how many people Hakuro told was for extra caution, Edward still believed it symbolized both his canine (or part canine) genetics and his place as a dog of the military State Alchemist. It also symbolized how trapped he was, completely and utterly under the mercy of the man who had collared him.

It took him over an hour, but eventually he succumbed to his exhaustion and fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of wolves and alchemy and Hakuro. When he woke, he couldn't remember what the dream was, just what it had contained, and that it had had him sweating and crying when he finally emerged from it's terrifying grasp.

He woke at around five thirty in the morning, and Hakuro had yet to drag his ass out of bed. Ed had slept on the floor again, and when he tried to stand he realised that he had a cramp in his left leg. The stolen one. Doing his best to ignore this fact, he rubbed the sore area with his left hand, trying to dispel the ache. After it finally went away, he looked around the dark, quiet suite and wondered what to do with himself while Hakuro was asleep. As was the habit that had already begun to sink deep into his subconscious, he tugged on his collar a little. Looking back toward the room where Hakuro was currently sleeping, he contemplated taking the damn thing off. He hated it, and would relish any moment where it was not wrapped around his neck nor slapping his back painfully. Should he risk it? Should he take it off while the old bastard was asleep?

Slowly, he raised both hands to his neck, his eyes remaining glued to Hakuro's sleeping form. Fingers shaking, he felt for the buckle, and, upon finding it, he began to slide the extra length of leather through the loop, cringing inwardly when even the slight noise seemed to scream through the silence. His heart beating faster than it should have been for such a simple, mundane task, he tugged on the strap, pulling it free from it's confines, and the collar slipped from his neck and fell into his open hand. Unsteadily, he took a deep breath, expecting Hakuro to awake any second now and hurt him for his crime. But the seconds ticked by, and the man remained asleep. Slowly, Edward began to calm down. He lay back down on the floor and exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, a quick glance at the clock determined that it was now six thirty. Shit! He could hear scuffling coming from Hakuro's bed, and scrabbled to put the collar back around his neck before the older man saw him without it. He'd taken so much punishment already, he didn't want to get caught out and take even more. How was he supposed to pretend he was all good and fine to the people around him if he was too beaten up to even try? He wasn't about to let that happen.

He slid the last strap through the loop just as his guard turned to look at him.

"And what are you doing, Elric?" He said accusingly.

"Nothing sir." Ed said, hoping his voice was convincing enough. Hakuro's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Instead, he proceeded to the kitchen, took out some bacon and eggs from the small refrigerator, pulled a fry pan from one of the cupboards, and lit one of the burners. Ed didn't bother watching the man cook food that was, based on how much he had taken out, purely for himself, instead choosing to run his fingers through his hair, making sure that it was at the very least, presentable. His fingers went through many knots, untangling them slightly as he went. The task didn't take long, though, and soon he found himself sitting pointlessly, his stomach growling at the smell of food he wouldn't get to eat. Trying not to give in and ask for food, he sat quietly, like a good dog, while Hakuro ate. He listened, his back turned, as the man chewed his food and took the plate to the sink. Most likely there would be some sort of cleaning lady who would wash the plate and utensils while the General was at work. For a few moments, there was silence, and Ed jumped when Hakuro broke it.

"I don't like being lied to, Elric."

Ed said nothing.

"You took it off again, didn't you?" He didn't have to specify anything for Edward to know what the older man meant. His stomach sank at the realisation that he had been caught...again.

Once again Edward said nothing, simply hung his had and waited. Every footstep the man took in his direction was another beat his heart skipped, and by the time Hakuro was directly behind him, Edward was almost out of breath. His throat was itching, but his focus wasn't on the itch. It was on the cold feeling of dread he felt at what his punishment would be, the one he had tried to avoid even through his mistake.

"Stand." Hakuro said, and Edward didn't have it in him to say no. So, like an obedient dog, he stood, and said nothing.

"Turn around." He did.

He looked up at the man's cold blue eyes for a moment before he saw the man's hand, raised to slap him. He flinched, shutting his eyes and awaiting the sting on his cheek, but it didn't come. Nervously, he opened one eye, only to see that Hakuro's hand had lowered itself to his side. "Take it off again, and you'll regret it." The man said, and walked away, toward the door. Ed's cheeks burned in humiliation. He was never going to be hit. Hakuro just wanted to make him cower like a child. And he'd succeeded. Ed had flinched away from a blow that was never going to come.

That bastard...dammit! Why did I fall for that? Clenching his fist, he followed him to the door and pretended like everything was alright.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four days passed, and still Ed was no better off. Every time he did something wrong in the eyes of the General, the man would give him a look, and Ed knew that look meant he was going to be punished. He tried to avoid it as much as possible, but punishments were becoming pettier and pettier. They had started out being things like Ed taking off the collar, or running away, but as he began to behave more, they became much more ridiculous. Yesterday, he'd been beaten because he'd accidentally broken the tip of his pen while writing, causing ink to smudge all over his work. He'd been frustrated at first, but as soon as he'd received the look he'd known. Every tiny, stupid little thing he did would get punished.

Today, he was in one of those moods, though. One of those moods where he wasn't going to take all this shit.

So, when he took more paper than he'd been allowed for his research, he accepted 'the look' with a cold face. When he spilled some ink from the well, he took it with indifference. And when he stopped to talk to Hughes when they ran into him at lunch, he ignored it entirely. He could feel Hakuro's cold eyes ripping holes into his back as he spoke to his father figure, and, though he shuddered at it, he made no move to respond to it at all. Something was off about Hughes' behaviour as they spoke, but then, Hughes could most likely, no, scratch that, Hughes could definitely tell that his own behaviour had been off since being assigned to Hakuro's care, so perhaps that was why.

When he and Hughes finally parted way roughly twenty minutes later, not long enough in Ed's mind, but, judging by Hakuro's attitude, far too long, he knew he'd really done it. Hakuro was gonna beat the living shit out of him.

Or, at least, he was going to try.

When they returned to the suite that night, the first thing Hakuro did after locking the door was swing a punch aimed at Edward's face. Which Ed caught. The look of shock on Hakuro's face was priceless, and Edward filed it away for permanent record in his mind. But the man collected himself quickly, and swung an uppercut that might have broken Ed's jaw had he not jumped away at the last second. He jumped back and raised both hands in the defensive position he'd learned to adopt from his Teacher years ago, and glared at the man he hated.

"You're not being very wise, Elric." Hakuro said.

"I'm sick of you beating me up and pushing me around." Edward said.

"You don't get a choice in the matter, dog." He responded, his words striking Ed like a physical blow. It took a few moments to dispel his rage and his hurt before he could summon up any words of defense.

"I'm not the only dog in this room, you know." Hakuro lunged at him, and Edward stepped to the side, the bigger man rushing right past him. He couldn't hit him. Couldn't let himself, not yet. If he did, he could get court martialled for attacking a superior officer. But if Hakuro was the first to attack, he could claim, in all truthfulness, that he was acting purely in self defense. So he continued to dodge Hakuro's weak attacks. He may be a man of the military, trained to the core in how to fight, but he was getting older, and, in the position of General that he held, and had held for years, he had lost his skill. His instincts. But Edward had been training to fight since he was a child. Sure, he had gone a few months without practicing when he'd been kidnapped, but during his time with the Hughes family he'd been re-honing his instincts, and they were at their peak. Hakuro was bigger, but Edward was better.

It was all going to plan. Surely somebody would here the scuffle and come to investigate. He just had to make sure he didn't hit back until that happened. Surely somebody would hear...

For a few minutes, his plan was actually working. He dodged all of the big man's attacks skillfully, and soon Hakuro began to puff, and Ed saw a few trickles of sweat bead down the man's face. But Hakuro wasn't the only one running out of breath. Had this fight taken place a year ago, Ed could have done this for hours. But he was already beginning to feel the weight of Truth's toll. His heart was running double time to keep up with him, and he could already feel the strain it was taking on him. His head was starting to go fuzzy each time he leaped out of the General's way, and the General knew it, too. He could see it in the big man's eyes every time he lunged forward. He knew he was winning this battle.

But Ed wouldn't go down so easy.

If he was going to go down - and he definitely was at this rate - then there was no way he was losing without at least making the old bastard think. At the last second, just before he knew he couldn't take the strain any longer, he lunged forward, catching the General by surprise, and swung his left fist in an uppercut that sent Hakuro reeling. Ed felt the man's teeth slam together upon impact, and grimaced. Damn, that would have hurt like a bitch from Hell. He stepped back, his face red and hot, and pressed his forehead to the wall. His eyes were hazy and his head was spinning.

He heard Hakuro groan from his left, and knew he'd definitely made the bastard think. About how much damage Edward Elric could really do when he wanted, hopefully. He opened one eye slightly and saw the the man was slowly beginning to stand up, rubbing his head and swaying on his feet. After a minute, his eyes met Ed's.

I'm fucked. I am so fucked. Was the first thought that came to his head, and, judging by the way Hakuro's eyes blazed, his thoughts were more or less correct. He began to stumble towards Ed, and Ed stood tall, not backing up. He was done with being a coward, done with allowing himself to be caged like an animal.

"You're gonna regret that, you brat." Hakuro growled. Ed said nothing. After receiving no response, Hakuro swung a punch at his face, and Ed only just managed to block it with his shoulder. He stumbled backwards, his shoulder flaring up. Despite being a tired old man, jeez Hakuro knew how to punch. This punch was followed by another punch to the shoulder, and then a blow to the stomach. The breath - what little he had remaining - flew from his lungs, and he doubled over in a coughing fit. Hakuro paused in his assault as Ed's body tried to hack up his lungs out of his mouth, but Ed barely noticed. He was too preoccupied with trying to bring air into his seemingly dying lungs.

Blood flecks spotted his gloves when he looked at them through a break in his fit, and he sucked in the deepest breath he could take through his mouth, exhaling and then inhaling again for longer than he could count. He barely noticed when Hakuro left and returned with an ice pack under his chin, and only when his breathing was at a semi-normal pace did he bother to pay attention again. Hakuro had his chin raised, looking down on Edward as if he was some sort of bug and he was debating whether or not to squash it. Edward glared at him, sending a silent message: Go ahead, try to squash me, I dare you. After a moment or two, Hakuro began to circle him like a lone wolf herding it's prey. Then, out of nowhere, his foot swung out and hit Edward square in his right cheek. He cried out in pain and toppled over, and neither Ed nor Hakuro heard the knocking at the door over his cry.

Ed's head went fuzzy and he saw stars burst behind his eyes. His vision went black for a few seconds as he struggled to clear his head. His breath escaped him when another kick fell on his chest, and he slid across the floor, a mixture between a cry and and gasp tearing from his lips.

The door burst open, a man with a gun aimed directly at Hakuro's head.

Hughes.

Hakuro froze, taking in what had just happened. It only took him a few seconds though to regain his composure. "What're you doing here, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes?" He asked.

"I just wanted to see how Ed was doing. I never expected to find this. Just what do you think you're doing to him, Hakuro?" Hughes snarled.

"Not that it is any concern of yours, Lieutenant Colonel, but I was merely disciplining a disrespectful brat."

"I bet you don't treat your own children like that, you bastard." Maes growled.

"Be careful, Hughes, and remember who you're talking to. I could have you demoted for that or even discharged." That bastard, he would do that! Edward thought as he struggled to get to his knees. His arms and legs trembled as they struggled to support his weight, and he missed what Hughes said in response to Hakuro's thinly veiled threat.

"I don't think I have to worry about that." Hakuro said. "With only your word against mine, I think we know who'll win."

"B-bastard." Ed mumbled, catching on. He tried getting to his feet, but his vision went blurry and he fell back down to the ground, his stomach twisting. Faintly, he heard Hughes calling out to him, but he couldn't respond, because his throat was suddenly blocked by a thick liquid, and then he was hacking it up, his eyes squeezed shut. His mouth was overcome with the metallic taste of his own blood. The coughing continued as though it might never stop. He was barely even aware of the circles being rubbed into his back, the soothing words of the man he had spent a week without but missed sorely as though it had been a year.

He couldn't make out the words his father figure was saying, but just the sound of his voice was a much needed comfort to him, and soon he found his hacking ceasing. His heart was pounding in his chest, his abdomen was screaming at him for relief, but, barely, he managed to open his eyes.

He was met with a puddle of blood that could rival his Teacher's.

Shock overcame Edward. He'd spent months coughing, blood making it's way up here and there, but never this much. Normally, he only coughed up flecks or spots of blood at a time, but this...this was like how his Teacher used to cough. There was likely more blood here at once than all the blood he'd coughed up collected together.

"Easy there, Ed." Maes said softly beside him, and he relaxed himself, leaning against the older man's body for support. He noticed that Maes' gun was still trained perfectly on Hakuro, and he relaxed even further. Hakuro couldn't hurt him now. He was with Maes. Maes would protect him. A part of him hated that he needed protecting, hated that he relied so heavily on the man who had taken him in and done everything he could to protect his secret, but a bigger part of him only wanted this moment to last forever. This was the only way he felt truly good. With Maes. With the man he had come to think of as his father.

"This is an order, Hughes, get that gun away from me." Hakuro said, his voice calm but his shaking hands giving him away.

"Not going to happen, General." Hughes said, and Edward could hear the unadulterated hatred in his voice.

"Now, Hughes!"

Instead of obeying his Commanding Officer, Hughes gently nudged Edward away, standing from his knees and stepping backwards to the phone on the wall a few feet away, his aim at Hakuro's head never wavering. Carefully, he dialled the phone, then held it to his ear. Ed listened as Hughes requested to be put in to Colonel Mustangs office, then waiting patiently as the call was connected. His eyes flickered to Hakuro's form, and noticed how deeply furrowed the man's eyebrows were. He knew he was busted. He was probably trying to prepare himself a defence for his actions. Better have a good lawyer. Ed thought bitterly. You're going to need one.

"Hey, Mustang, it's Hughes." Maes' voice broke through his thoughts and he returned his attention to the kinder military officer in the room. "I need you here." A pause. "General Hakuro's dormitory suite. And bring your team too." Another pause. "Yeah, hurry." After that, he hung up the phone, turning to glare directly at Hakuro.

"You're finished, Hakuro." He said.

"We'll see about that, Hughes." The General said darkly, and Ed shivered at the look in his eyes. Despite all logic telling him it was over, he still had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that Hakuro wasn't done with them. Or, more specifically, him.

Ed waited silently over the next five-ish minutes for Mustang and his team to arrive. And he wasn't the only one. All three of them remained soundless, as though by breaking the silence one might shatter the world. It stretched on, partway relieving, because Edward didn't know what to say to anybody if he was addressed. But it was mostly suffocating. All he could think about was about how disappointed Maes must be with him, letting Hakuro push him around like a newborn pup. About how weak he was that it was right. How pathetic he had been to allow himself to be pushed around like that. These thoughts swam around and around in his head like a tornado, continuously twirling about, causing destruction as it passed by, leaving nothing positive left.

His heart was still pounding underneath his chest when they arrived.

It was Havoc who came through the open door first, his gun held steadily in his hands, not knowing where to point it at first, but as his eyes took in the scene with speed he quickly focused his aim on Hakuro, just as Hughes had. Breda followed him, and then Fuery and Falman. Ed wondered if it was for dramatic effect that Mustang walked in last, ignition gloves pulled tight over his hands, fingers poised to snap, and why Lieutenant Hawkeye wasn't with them.

"Hughes." He said by way of greeting, either ignoring or not noticing Edward. Stupidly, these possibilities both angered him. Was he not important enough to acknowledge? Was he so irrelevant that he was less than noticeable in a room? Angrily, he shook his head, trying to dash his ridiculous thoughts. "What's going on?"

"I walked in on this bastard beating Ed." Hughes responded, his trigger finger twitching ever so slightly. Ed heard the sharp intake of breath from everybody around him as they absorbed the Lieutenant Colonel's words, each of their eyes flickering to both Hakuro, standing straight and stiff, and then to Edward, shoulders slouched and hands shaking. Each one of them held a slightly different expression on their faces, ranging from Havoc's carefully concealed fury to Fuery's faintly sick gulp.

Of all of them, it was Mustang who responded first.

"Cuff him." He said. "General Hakuro, you are under arrest for assault on a Military officer and for assault on a minor."

Hakuro remained silent, and, as Falman stepped forward, cuffs in hand, to arrest him, Ed moved quietly to stand beside Hughes, the action moving him closer to Hakuro. Just as the Warrant Officer was about to bend the bigger man's hands behind his back, Hakuro swung around and punched Falman directly in the nose. The crack was loud and Falman's shout even louder, but before anybody could fire their guns, The General had grabbed Edward by his neck and lifted him into the air.

Ed snarled to hide his whimper and clawed at the man's hands. For a split second he wondered why nobody was just shooting the bastard in the foot or something, but quickly realised that if they did, the man's reflexes would kick in and he would squeeze his hands tighter, which would completely cut off his oxygen, and he could press too hard in the wrong spot and potentially kill him.

Black spots began to dot his vision, and he clawed harder at Hakuro's hands, trying to pry them free of his neck. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He could hear shouting, from Hughes, Mustang and Hakuro all, but couldn't make out any of their words through the humming in his own head. His eyelids drooped momentarily, and he fought himself to keep them open. If he blacked out now...Hakuro might just kill him.

No...have to stay...awake...

A gunshot exploded in his ears, and a scream, and suddenly the hands around his neck tightened their grip as he and Hakuro fell together, and his pulse pounded in his head and his vision blacked and then the hands were letting go but he was already gone, swallowed up by the black abyss of unconsciousness.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was on a hill. A perfectly green hill, standing beside a large oak tree with a swing made from a plank of wood and two lengths of rope attached to the branch above. His mother hadn't noticed him leave the house, but it was still early, and the light was just enough that he could see the retreating figure of his father just past the bottom of the hill. Nobody had said so, but Edward could tell by the look in his father's eyes and his mother's as he walked out the door that he was leaving and not coming back. He could just tell.

His father turned slightly, suitcase in hand, and looked back, catching Ed's eye even through the distance separating them. Neither spoke a word, or made any motion to indicate that they could see each other. But his father looked him in the eye, and Edward looked back.

And then Hohenheim left forever.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

"Edward, wake up!"

"Please, Ed, please wake up!"

"We have to take him to the hospital!"

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Edward held his mother's hand as she died. The influenza, the doctors said. She was too far gone to be cured, the only thing left to do was to say goodbye. Over his own hand, he could feel his little brother's, also trying to hold his mummy's hand for as long as he could. Not wanting his little brother to miss out on his last chance, he took his hand away and let little Al hold it on his own. Let him be the one to hold her for the last time.

Their mother spoke soft words of love to them, but Ed didn't hear them. Didn't remember them. All he remembered was the hollow feeling, the deep aching in his chest when she closed her eyes and finally stopped breathing. He remembered feeling like all hope was lost. Like nothing in the world would ever be right again because mum was gone.

Al started crying.

But for Edward, no tears would fall.

Even if he wanted them to, he couldn't. Couldn't cry in front of Al. Al needed him to be strong. Al needed Ed to look after him now that...now that she was gone.

Ed took a deep, painful breath, grabbed Alphonse's hand in his own, and pulled his brother close. He wrapped his little arms around his littler brother as he sobbed into his shirt. There were no words spoken between them, just Ed's silent agony and Al's tearful terror. Terror at losing his mother.

She's gone...The thought pierced him in the heart as it finally, truly registered with him, and he wrapped his arms even tighter around Al. He wouldn't cry...couldn't cry...Terror instilled him, as it had Alphonse. But he couldn't cry.

Terror.

And agony. Silent, but even more painful.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

"Ed. Come on buddy, wake up. Time to wake up."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

The biggest feeling Ed could register was pain. It was everywhere, his stomach, his legs, arms, chest, shoulders, even his face. It was mostly his face. He could feel the bruise that was surely bursting beneath his skin, purple and black. It had to be. His eyes were closed, and he did not feel at all inclined to open them.

He could hear a consistent beeping somewhere beside him, and decided that he must be in a hospital. Again. That conclusion was backed up by the smell of chemicals and the feel of an I.V needle in his left arm.

As he tried take in a breath, he realised that it was harder than it should be. His throat felt like somebody had shoved a dozen stones down it. Then it dawned on him that there was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, and that he'd barely been breathing on his own during his sleep at all. He stopped struggling with it and just let the mask do it's thing, pumping air in and out of his lungs for him, saving him the trouble.

"He's still not waking up?" Edward heard Hawkeye's soft, sad voice ask the question, but she didn't sound at all close. Like he was on one side of a large room and she was on the other. He wished that she would come closer, he liked the sound of her voice. It wasn't often that he heard her talk like that, no formal business tone anywhere to be found, just her.

He remembered the night she had taken him out to karaoke. It had been fun, to say the least. And while he hadn't actually participated in any singing (he did NOT having a singing voice), he had listened, smiling, as she and her friend Rebecca Catalina and everybody else in the room had gone up and sung a song or two. Many people, like him, were not suited to singing. Rebecca, or, Bec, as she had told him to call her, had been one of those people.

But Hawkeye's voice had sounded like an Angel. He couldn't remember what song she had sung, but he remembered thinking that she had a beautiful voice that was going to waste in the military.

"No." It was only one word, but he could hear the despair behind it as Hughes answered the question. Suddenly Ed felt terrible, and not in a physical way. By not waking up, he was causing the man he trusted most in the world to despair. He wanted to wake, to open his eyes and let Maes know that it was all okay, that he was fine and that there was no need to worry about him, but his eyelids remained shut. They felt heavy, like lead. They wouldn't obey his commands.

"The doctors said that with the injuries he's sustained, he might not wake up for a while yet." Maes continued. "They said that the bruises are are at least a week old. When Hakuro choked him it took a toll on his windpipe. And his back..."

"What happened to his back?" Hawkeye asked. Unconsciously, Ed twitched a finger.

"Hakuro, obviously." Maes said bitterly. Ed didn't like the sound of his voice when it was coated with bitterness. It just wasn't Hughes that way. He wished he'd stop. "The bastard hit him with that collar he made Ed wear." Another finger twitched.

"Oh God..." Hawkeye breathed.

"Yeah, he even - hey, look." Maes stopped when Ed's entire hand twitched. "He's waking up."

Wanting to see his face, Ed made a bigger effort to open his eyes. His eyelids still felt like lead weights, but instead of trying to pull them open, he squeezed them shut, and then slowly pulled them up. The light was blinding, and he immediately shut them again, from reflex. Slowly, he opened them again, letting his irises adjust to the white lights of the hospital room a littler better.

When he could finally see, the first thing he saw was Hughes' amazed face.

"You're awake." He whispered.

"Yeah." Ed choked out.

"How do you feel?"

"Like shit." Ed said truthfully, putting a smile on his face. Maes smiled back, and Ed knew he'd said the right thing. Looking past Maes, Ed watched as Hawkeye gave him a kind smile, nodded, and walked out the door. She was giving them some time alone. Silently, he thanked her. He put to the back of his mind the worry that piqued in him when he noticed that she was wearing hospital dressing, and the bandages that peeked out from underneath the garment and wrapped over her left shoulder.

Neither of them said anything for a minute, and Ed decided he'd had enough of laying down. Slowly, he sat himself up from his pillow, and went to pull off his oxygen mask, deciding he could breathe for himself.

"No, leave that there. Please." Maes added when Ed gave him a look. "Let's just make sure you can really breathe properly before we take it off. You nearly died." His face fell as he said those last three words, and Ed looked down at his hands.

"Okay." He said. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize Ed. It's Hakuro's fault, not yours." Ed stayed silent, not wanting to say that it was his fault for not defending himself properly. "Come here, Ed." He said, opening his arms and leaning close. Ed wordlessly leaned in to it, relishing in the feeling of Maes' arms around him. He was safe here, with Maes. Nobody, not Hakuro, not anybody, could hurt him while he was with Maes. Maybe he'd even get to go home now. Go back to the Hughes' apartment with him and Gracia and Alphonse and Elicia. Maybe he could be free. Free from the military. He'd already gotten Al's body back, so it wasn't like he needed it anymore.

Yeah, he'd quit. Resign, whatever. He was done.

He just wanted to go home.

"You're safe now Ed." Maes said. "I promise."

"I know." He said back.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought  
> I'd feel this  
> Guilty and I'm  
> Broken down inside  
> Living with myself  
> Nothing but lies
> 
> I always thought  
> I'd make it  
> But never knew I'd  
> Let it get so bad  
> Living with myself
> 
> World So Cold (Three Days Grace)

Edward wasn't going to be allowed out of the hospital for nearly a week after being admitted. The doctors wanted to keep him in so that they could make sure there weren't going to be any more problems with his throat, because it had taken a day or so after waking up for him to be able to breathe properly on his own.

While he was stuck in the small little room within the great big building, he learned the reason Hawkeye hadn't joined the rest of the team when Maes had called them over. The night Hakuro had beat the shit out of him for being outside without him, Hawkeye had been shot in the shoulder, in an attempt to protect Mustang from an attacker that had ambushed the two of them whilst they'd been out on a walk. Through the concern for her that bloomed in his breast, he couldn't help but smile slightly at the bravery and loyalty the woman had for her superior officer that she would take a bullet for him.

Right now he was sitting alone in his hospital room, waiting to hear from Maes as to what was going to happen to him now. Hakuro had been arrested and was in prison on multiple charges assault. The trial was set for three weeks from now, but Ed wasn't sure where he was going to be staying in the mean time. Hell, he might even just stay at the hospital. He hoped to a God he didn't believe in that he wouldn't have to, he despised being in hospitals.

His fists were clenched with anxiousness. Maes had told him he was going to do all he could to be permitted to watch over Edward, but he had already said that the chances weren't good. He might just have to go to Mustang right away. And as nice as the man had been to him lately, and as much as he had (tried) helped him out on that day, Edward couldn't help but feel a deep un-wanting in regards to having to stay with him. Even without all the pain the man had put him through, he had never truly gotten along with the man, and loathed having to spend any real time in close contact with him, let alone having to live with him full time.

Through it all, Ed's throat itched like mad, and only a few times had he managed to restrain himself from it's urge and avoid coughing up blood.

Alphonse had visited him in his hospital bed more than a few times, only ever leaving when Edward made him. He didn't want his little brother missing out on the important parts of his life just because Ed was in the hospital. He had friends, actual friends his own age, and Edward wanted him to spend every second possible with them, in an ill attempt to try and make up for the time lost in the armour.

It was lonely, in the hospital. The nurses stopped by every now and then to make sure he was doing okay, but he didn't want them. He only wanted Maes. Maes and Hawkeye. They were the only people he desired visit him, though he would never voice that. And as much as he wanted to make sure his brother was okay, it was better that he just stay with his friends as aforementioned. During the times when he was alone, he read a lot. Mostly fact books. Alchemy books and chemistry books and biology books. But he did read a novel or two once or twice, but didn't find them quite as enjoyable. He was the type of person that preferred reading about real things that were important to know over made up adventures of people that never had and never would exist.

He also tried his hand at drawing, but found that he lacked the inspiration and the talent required to create anything halfway decent. If he practised he could probably develop that talent, but it wasn't something that particularly interested him.

Slowly, he took in a deep breath, releasing it after a moment. It was painful for Hawkeye to come visit too often - her shoulder was not going to heal properly for a while yet. And Maes was so busy with work. The loneliness of the hospital room had been creeping up on him like a fog since Maes left him last night and had not returned, even though it was late afternoon the following day. He wanted company, and Al had kept to his word as of yet and not returned for three days. His vision blurred at the thought of the brother he had failed so much, and done so much for to amend that failure, and for the deep gap that had grown between them since...those months. It still felt so wrong to not have his beloved brother by his side, day in and day out. Ed had always believed that Alphonse was dependant on him for everything; protection, consolation, company. But Edward was learning that it was the other way around. Al was making his way in the world without Edward just fine, and it was Ed who was dependant on Al...

Without him, he just felt so empty, so pointless, so...purposeless.

Ever since his mother had died, his entire life had always been driven by one purpose or another, whether it be bringing her to life, returning Al to his body, and then making sure Al never knew what kind of monster he had become. He had failed his first and last goal, but at least he had accomplished his second. But without anything now to keep him going, to drive him through the long days and the restless nights, he felt so insubstantial, like a blank canvas that would never be painted on. Never be given colour.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, resting his head on the big cushy pillow at the head of his stupid bed. He wanted to sleep. Sleep would be good. He missed being able to fight, but he also just wanted to sleep.

He closed his eyes.

The door opened.

Ed went stiff, not moving a muscle as the footsteps drew closer. He heard the owner of the footsteps speak to him. Hakuro. That was Hakuro. He was here. He was going to hit him, beat him. The man Ed had learned to fear was going to beat him into obedience, beat him for defying him, beat him for existing, beat him for everything. No, please, God no. I can't take this anymore. His mind screamed, but he pressed his lips shut to keep from screaming it aloud. He couldn't show him he was that weak. Couldn't let him see.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder, and his body flinched and trembled.

"Ed? Are you okay?"

Maes' voice broke through the fearful haze, and, still trembling, he opened his eyes slowly. It wasn't the General standing before him, but only Maes. It was just Maes. What the Hell is wrong with me? I could have sworn it was...

"I'm fine." He said.

"Are you sure? You were shaking."

"I said I'm fine." Edward looked away, not wanting his friend to realise that he had just mistook him for a man they both hated. The urge to lie and protect Maes from that knowledge was overwhelming, and Edward gave in to it. It was a habit he had still been working on suppressing all these months he had spent after he had learned to start trusting the man, but it was easily taken up again as he gave up. "Nothing's wrong."

"Edward..."

"Yeah?"

Maes took in a deep breath. "Never mind. I bear some good news." His voice lightened after those first two words, and Edward looked around, crossing his fingers beneath the sheets and sitting up.

"What is it?" He asked, hopeful.

"You're allowed to stay with me." Edward's heart soared. "But I could only convince the Fuhrer to allow you a week stay with me. After that you'll have to go to Mustang's, but a week is better than nothing, right?"

The elation Ed had felt after that first sentence died down. He didn't want to have to go to Mustang at all. Didn't want to be passed off from person to person like a pet. But...

Maes was right. One week was indeed better than nothing at all. It would be a week he could spend with Maes and Gracia and Alphonse and Elicia. Gracia had come to visit a few days ago, and she had proudly informed him that she and Hughes were planning on adopting Alphonse. She and Maes had pressed (while Ed had been with Hakuro) for them to be able to adopt him as well, but as far as Edward went, he belonged to the State, aka the Fuhrer. He couldn't be adopted. Disappointment had filled him then, but he had pushed it aside and allowed the excitement to flow through him at the prospect of Alphonse having actual parents, and those parents being Maes and Gracia at that. It was everything Ed could have ever asked for his brother, and more.

"Yeah. Better than nothing." He agreed. "So how's Al's adoption going?" He asked. Hughes beamed.

"I'm proud to say that your brother legally has a father."

Ed's heart melted.

"That's...that's awesome." He whispered. "Al finally has a dad. This is great."

"Uh huh! The adoption process was quicker than it normally is because the Fuhrer approved the request personally. We get the adoption certificate in three days. You should be out of here by then, and we'll throw a party." Maes said enthusiastically.

Ed nodded his head, deep in thought.

"Maes?" He asked.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Thank you." He said softly. "You've done so much for me, and for Al, and I can't think of any way we can ever repay you for it."

Maes' face softened, and he looked down at Ed with a smile. "You don't need to thank me, Ed. I want to do this, I want you boys to have a family, a real family. And I think that me and Gracia and Elicia can give you that." Tears pricked at Ed's eyes, and he took in a deep breath, holding in the second thanks that he knew Hughes wouldn't accept. A smile, small as it was, pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he laughed. Laughed at nothing in particular that was funny or amusing, but he just...laughed...because for once, he had finally done Al some good.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Mustang walked down the bustling streets of Central, ignoring completely the looks of hate or jealousy the men sent him and the lust or awe the women sent him not caring about any of it. On a normal day, he would indulge the opportunity to go up and speak to the prettiest of the ladies, maybe flirt with them, possibly even pretend to care about whatever they had to say to him. But today was not a normal day. Today he felt the guilt weighing him down like lead on his shoulders. The guilt of allowing his precious Lieutenant to be hurt. She had been shot because of him. She was in pain because of him.

Blinking back the anger that swelled, he clenched his fists, and walked into the dingy little pub that he and Maes occasionally frequented when they were in the mood for a cold one. He plopped himself down on one of the creaky wooden barstools and waited for the waitress to come to him.

"What can I get for you sir?" She asked. Her voice could sound innocent enough to the untrained ear, but he could read through her tone and hear the flirtation and the desire she so carefully did not hide from him. On a normal day, he would have responded with some flirting of his own, commented on the perfection of her make-up ridden face and the curls in her red hair, or maybe even the how her uniform made her look absolutely ravishing. On a normal day, he probably would have done all these things.

"I'll have three shots." He said instead.

"Of course" She replied, and he heard the pout in her voice as she walked away to get him the shots. She returned less than a minute later, and she had barely put down the second tiny glass when the first one reached his lips and he downed it.

It had been a little over a week since Riza had been shot, and still he felt awful. It had all been his fault, because he had been so stupid as to take her out for a walk instead of just letting her go home in peace. Perhaps then that stupid little boy-girl might not have attacked them.

He downed the next one.

Within that week-and-a-bit, he had been here all of five times, each time his guilt becoming worse and worse. Each time he returned and the little bit of alcohol washed away his turmoil for a while, but then he would feel guilty again because he had told Riza he would not drink, and then he would come back and drink again because of it. He had broken his promise already, so he might as well wash it away.

He tossed the last shot back and slammed the cup onto the bench, barely noticing when a thin crack shot up the side of the glass and a chip fell away from the base.

"Three more" He said.

"Yes sir."

Half an hour and twelve shots later, Roy was absolutely staggering drunk. The room was blurring around him and the noise of the people were making his ears ring. Vaguely, he heard the waitress ask him when he was going to pay. "Pu' id on ma' tab," he slurred out, getting to his feet. His vision went white for a long, long moment as his brain struggled to cope with the fact that he had moved, and he grabbed the bench to keep from falling over.

When his eyes returned to the land of the seeing, his began to stagger out of the bar. His aim was to return home, but once he made it into the cool night air, he wondered if he shouldn't pay Riza a visit.

"Whyyyyy not?" He mumbled to himself, turning in the direction of her apartment and slowly making his way there. He had made it all of six steps when he remembered that she was in the hospital, though he couldn't remember exactly why. "Whas' she in a hostibal for?"

He began to think hard on the question, but thinking just made his head hurt, so he decided to not do that and instead, wonder around, and see where he ended up. That sounded like it might be fun. As he wondered the streets, it occurred to him that he wanted...wait, what did he want again? It was important, he knew that much, but his alcohol-filled brain did not remember exactly what he wanted, or was it needed? He couldn't remember.

Wait...how exactly did he end up on the ground?

Roy did a double take, and yes, he was most definitely on the ground, his legs sprawled beneath him at an awkward and slightly painful angle. How the Hell had that happened? Moaning from the piercing headache, he crawled back to his feet, frustrated that he had let himself fall down like that. How stupid. Like, seriously. It wasn't as though he drunken himself that stupid. He'd only had one or two shots...

"Hey, Roy-boy!"

"Wah?" He turned around (A little wobbly) to see his best friend waltzing towards him, his ever-present smile plastered to his face. Bastard probably saw me fall, Roy thought angrily.

"The Hell are you doing out here, Roy?" Maes asked as he closed in the distance between them. Mustang blinked, his brain still processing the question.

"Wan'ed a dring." He responded.

"And how much did you drink?" His friend inquired.

"Dunno. One or two." He said.

"More like ten." Maes muttered under his breath, apparently under the impression that Roy hadn't heard him.

"You callin' me a liar?" He accused, clenching his fists and furrowing his brows. How dare Maes insinuate that he had drunk more than he'd said he'd drunk. How dare he. He wasn't there, he didn't know how much he'd drunk. What a bastard.

"No." Maes sighed is exasperation.

"You are." Roy said, and straightened up, eyes narrowing. "Fuck off. Don't need you here." Not if you're gonna be like that, he added silently. Hughes rolled his eyes and Mustang's anger only grew stronger.

"You always do this when you're drunk, Roy." He said. "You get angry over absolutely nothing."

"You called me a liar!" Mustang yelled, his speech no longer impaired but in fact bettered by the rage that was making it's way through him.

"No, I didn't."

"You did!"

"No, I-" Roy cut Maes of mid-denial with a fist aimed at his face. Maes grabbed the fist and squeezed it barely an inch before it touched his nose. "Didn't." He finished. "Jesus Christ Roy."

"Fucker!" Mustang hissed before throwing another punch. His friend wasn't as quick this time and the blow clipped his shoulder, sending him staggering backwards and flailing his hands for balance. Mustang stumbled forward quickly and grabbed the front of Maes' military uniform and butting his head against the other man's before letting go. Maes dropped to the ground, groaning, holding his head.

"Dammit Roy." He growled. "You always get so damn violent when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk!" Mustang insisted.

"Alright, if you say so. But can we go home, please? My head hurts." Mustang took a deep breath and nodded, suddenly feeling bad for hurting his friend.

"Sure." He said. He would have said sorry, but...he didn't really want to. And Maes would know that he was sorry without him saying it anyway. "Sure."

"Thank you." Maes said, sighing. He grabbed Roy's wrist and led him away.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Maes led his best friend home, he couldn't help but grieve for the man. It had been years since Roy had gotten this drunk, and he had hoped that he would never get this drunk again. But ever since the Lieutenant had been shot, he'd been drinking himself stupid. Maes understood (sort of), but wished that the damn idiot would realise that it wasn't his fault. Roy was always the kind of person to pretend like he thought it was other people's fault, but, on the inside, he would beat himself up over something he believed to be his fault.

He's really a lot like Ed. Maes reflected.

He rolled his eyes as Roy stumbled over nothing and they kept walking in silence. Well, it would have been silence if his drunken friend hadn't been mumbling under his breath about something or other. He rolled his eyes to himself again and squeezed his eyes shut when his head twinged in pain from when Roy had butted his head. Dammit, Roy was such a nice guy when he was sober (at least is Maes' opinion), but when he got drunk he was so violent. He would get angry over nothing and then he'd swing a punch at anything that moved.

He remembered the first time he had ever seen Roy drunk, not long after they returned home from Ishval, Hell, it was that very same night, and it had come as quite a shock to him. Roy had been drinking and drinking and then some, while Maes sat on the barstool behind him and frowned at the glass in his hands, swirling the amber liquid inside, wanting to drink it but feeling too sick to bother. Roy had no such quarrels.

At some point during the night, Maes had overheard some gentlemen at the other end of the bar stand muttering to each other about Ishval, and Maes heard Mustang's name mentioned. And it had not been mentioned in polite context either. Maes wanted to punch the man into the ground, but apparently he was going to have to wait his turn, because Roy had already leaped from his seat and was stalking over to the two men. Sighing, Maes got up to follow them. Roy glared down at them, and though Maes could not see his eyes, he knew they would be blazing with a fire full of hatred. "What did you say?" Roy spoke quietly, his his voice barely more than a whisper, and Maes was half impressed that the men did not try and hide behind the counter.

"What's it to you, pal?" The smallest man of the two said, standing up and attempting to loom over Roy, which was a rather difficult feat in and of itself considering the man was a good four inches shorter than Roy. Short man syndrome. Maes thought to himself.

Roy grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and lifted him into the air. Maes blinked. The other man tensed.

"What's it to me?" Mustang whispered. "Well, I heard you say my name. Why don't you repeat yourself, so everyone can hear? Unless you're too scared to speak your opinion to people who aren't low lives." By now, the entire pub had gone quiet, all of them either noticing what was happening or noticing other people noticing; either way, all eyes were on Roy and the small man he was holding in the air, not quite level with his own face.

The small man, who Maes registered barely had pale skin and brown eyes, coupled with an unattractive mop of shaggy brown hair, did not say anything, merely glared at Roy with narrowed eyes that were probably supposed to be scornful, but really just made him look like he was squinting at the sun.

"I said, REPEAT YOURSELF, BASTARD!" Mustang yelled into the man's face, and the brown haired, brown eyed asshole spat in Roy's face.

That was the last straw for Roy.

He shouted in rage, threw the the man to the floor and began pounding into him. "I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID!" He screamed. "YOU SAID THAT I ENJOYED IT! THAT I ENJOYED KILLING ALL THOSE INNOCENT PEOPLE!"

Maes clenched his fists, feeling tears coming to his eyes.

He moved forward.

"YOU SAID THAT THE WAR WAS THE BEST THING TO HAPPEN TO ME! YOU BASTARD!" He screamed, and slammed his fist into the man's stupid, ugly face. Not a single person in the pub made any effort to stop him. Not one.

"YOU THINK I LIKED BEING FORCED TO KILL PEOPLE? DO YOU?" Maes could see now that Roy's eyes were leaking tears, and they poured down his face and Roy made no effort to stop them. He crashed his fist down one last time, and Maes heard the pathetic man's nose break, and inwardly, he smiled in satisfaction. Outwardly, he was crying, just as much as his friend.

Roy sat up, and his entire frame was trembling, his eyes were red and bruised. Maes lay a hand on his best friend's shoulder, and Mustang flinched.

"Come on Roy." He said softly. "Let's go. He's not worth your time."

Maes was pulled from his memory when Roy stumbled and fell flat on his face. Maes tried to smile at him, tried to laugh, but the memory had drained him of his amusement. Now he only felt...sad. There were so many other words that a writer might have used to describe his sate, but he could only describe himself as sad. All the other words were too complex, 'sad' was much simpler.

Face sombre, he knelt down and grabbed Roy's cold hand, pulling him to his feet. His friend swayed and his eyes closed, and Maes realised he had fallen asleep just before he had fell. He shook his head.

Leading Roy back to his home, he pulled the key from Roy's left pocket (Roy always kept his keys in his left pocket) and unlocked the door, swinging it open and pulling his friend inside, quickly shutting and re-locking it. He flicked on the lights and led Roy to his bedroom, stripping him of his clothes, and, leaving him with only his boxers, he lay the man down in bed and pulled the blankets gently over him. Roy was out like a light the moment his head touched the pillow, and Maes felt his lip quirk up slightly. He had always enjoyed watching Roy sleep.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Maes went to the door of Roy's bedroom and closed it after switching off the light. He walked tiredly back into the kitchen, pulling the phone off the wall and dialling his own house number, hoping that Gracia was still awake. He twirled the cord around his fingers as he waited. On the third ring, she picked up.

"Gracia Hughes here." She answered through a yawn.

"Hi honey." He said through his own.

"Maes!" His wife's voice perked up. "Where are you?"

"I'm at Roy's, honey." He responded, hating to hear her worry about him. "The damn moron's gone and got himself drunk again, so I hauled his stupid ass home."

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, but he's out like a light." He could practically hear her shaking her head. He thought he heard her mumble 'idiot', but then she spoke again and he forgot.

"Are you okay?" She asked. Maes thought about the ache in his shoulder where his friend had punched him, and the pounding in his head.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He lied. "Just worried about him." Not a lie.

"Alright. Will you be coming home tonight? I've already put Al and Elicia to bed." She told him.

"Sorry, I think I'd better stay here in case he wakes up and does God knows what. But I'll try and come by in the morning before I head off to work. I'm gonna use my lunch break to run down to the hospital and check on Ed. He's supposed to be let out of the hospital tomorrow, so I wanna make sure he's got everything together. Someone has to." He smiled. Tomorrow, he was gonna be able to take Ed home. It was only for a week, and he was still beating himself up for not being able to make it any longer for the poor boy, but at least he had a week.

And if Ed couldn't be happy for himself, then at least he could be happy for Al. Al finally had a dad (Maes beamed to himself every time he thought about it), and it would make Edward's day to see Al as happy as the boy had been about it.

But after that week was over...he would have to be brought to Mustang.

Maes' beam faded, and he frowned, realising he hadn't actually looked at the room Mustang had set up for him.

Walking down the hall, Maes made a guess and opened the door directly opposite Roy's. He flicked on the light and was greeted to a mostly bare room, save for a dresser, a desk and a mirror. And, of course, the bed. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Mustang had bought the boy a small double bed, and it was decorated with plain but comfortable looking sheets, blankets and pillows. The only thing that bothered him about the room was the fact that the lock was on the outside, and that the window was the same.

He was going to have to have a talk with Mustang about that.

That, and the drinking.

Over his dead body was he going to let Roy drink himself stupid while he was taking care of Maes' son.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always knew that you'd  
> Come back to get me  
> And you always knew that  
> It wouldn't be easy  
> To go back to the start  
> To see where it all began
> 
> ~Lost In You (Three Days Grace)

Roy awoke at stupid o'clock the next morning, his brain doing cartwheels and somersaults inside his throbbing skull, with little memory of the previous night. Groaning, he sat up, waiting for his vision to stop clouding everything in a yellowy haze. When his eyes finally decided to cooperate with his barely functioning brain, he realised it was still dark out. He groaned again, glancing at his clock. Really, he should still be able to go back to bed, he still had another hour before he normally woke up, but he groggily recognized that in this state if he went back to sleep there was a piss poor chance that he would wake up when he needed to.

Not wanting to in the slightest, he dragged himself out from under the covers and shivered when the cold air hit his mostly naked body in a wave of please-let-me-go-back-to-sleep. It dawned on him then that somebody had stripped him down to his boxers. Who in the name of alchemy did that?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shut his eyes and attempted to recall what had happened last night. At some point, an image of Maes wondered across his vision, and he decided it had probably been him who had put him to bed. Blinking back another haze, he awkwardly got to his feet and searched around for some clothes. Eventually he found a clean uniform an dragged it on, fumbling with the buttons, finding that his fingers kept either slipping or going numb. When he missed the same button for the third time, he realised what this was. He was hungover.

That would explain why I don't remember last night. He thought. Dammit, why do I keep doing this? He knew that if he kept this up he was very likely to lose his job, or at least get demoted. He didn't want either of those things to happen; he;d worked too hard over the years to obtain his current rank to lose it now over some binge drinking.

Binge drinking? Where did that come from?

Then he remembered. He'd been out practically every night drinking since his Lieutenant had been shot (oh, crap, how could I forget about that?!)

Grumbling to himself, he stumbled over to his door, having finally managed to put on his uniform, and opened his door, hand slipping on the doorknob a little. He wandered to the kitchen, poured himself a small glass of bourbon, and headed to the living room, where he found his best friend passed out on the couch. Roy blinked and then shook his head, noticing that Maes had taken his jacket and shirt off to avoid getting it too crinkled. He was shivering in the cold. Shaking his head again, he drained his cup of it's liquid, gently set it down on the small glass table and went to the cupboard, pulling out a woollen blanket and softly draping it over Hughes. After a few seconds, he stopped shivering and relaxed, and Roy smiled despite the pounding in his head. He liked watching Maes sleep.

Deciding to let Maes sleep until he himself would have normally woken up, Roy set about his morning routine, if not with a little extra stumbling and mumbling than usual. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, stripping himself down (why had he even gotten dressed in the first place again?) and turning on the tap, waiting until the water was at a nice temperature before stepping under the spray. The water was just bordering too hot, the way he liked it, and he could feel it loosening up his tight muscles and easing away the fatigue that still assailed him. He grabbed the bar of soap from the rack, rubbing it against the wash-cloth before cleaning himself up, noting with annoyance that he was riddled with patches of dust and dried alcohol. His face was especially dirty, and when he wondered why, he vaguely recalled being lifted to his feet by Maes after falling flat on his face at some point on the way home. Great. He thought.

After he finished that and shampooed his tangled black hair, he let himself stand under the water for a few seconds before getting out, turning off the taps and flicking the water from his hands and feet. He grabbed a towel and dried himself down, put on his uniform -again- and left the bathroom, heading back to the kitchen to eat some breakfast. Roughly twenty minutes had passed.

He was greeted to the sound of Maes sitting at his kitchen table, nursing a steaming hot cup of coffee that Roy suspected had more than a few spoonfuls of sugar.

"Hey." He said, his voice throaty. "Morning."

"Morning." Maes' returned, waving a hand in his general direction and then returning his attention to his coffee. A few moments were passed in silence while Roy waited for some sort of lecture, and when he received none, he shrugged internally and fetched himself a bowl of cereal.

"Roy." He turned in the action of returning his cereal box to it's rightful place on a shelf.

"Yeah?"

"We need to talk." Maes said.

"About?" Roy sat down.

"Edward." He said, his expression dark, his eyes fixed on his mug.

"What about him?"

"You'll have to take him in in a week." Hughes said.

Roy paused for a moment, and, eventually, responded with a slow, "I'm aware..."

"Are you, Roy?" Maes asked, and he raised his face to look at him and Roy saw something terrifying in his best friend's eyes. "You're going out every night and getting drunk-"

"-Not every night." Roy interjected, but Maes went on as if he'd said nothing.

"-And you know that when you get drunk you get violent, and God knows you don't even get along with him well when you're sober, and I will not have you getting violent with my son Roy!"

Roy frowned. "Maes, how many times do I have to tell you that he's not your son!"

Maes launched to his feet and slammed his hands on the table, and Roy flinched. The mug of coffee fell to the floor and smashed. "AND HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT HE IS?!" Maes roared, and Roy flinched again. "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT HE'S MY BLOOD, THAT FACT IS THAT I CONSIDER HIM TO BE MY SON AND THAT IS THAT!"

Maes' chest was heaving, and the glare he was holding on Roy had him frozen.

"I don't care what you say," He said again, "Because I say he's my son and that is the only thing that matters." Roy went to speak, but Maes silenced him. "He is my son, and I won't let you get drunk and hurt him. Not again."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Maes entered the door to his home, feeling sufficiently better than he had when he had first woken up. He had woken and realised that at some point during the night Roy had gotten him a blanket, and that Roy had been in the shower at that moment.

He had dreaded having the..conversation...with Roy, but it had to be done. After he'd addressed the issue of Roy's drinking habits, and Roy had promised him he's have it under control before Ed was in his care, Maes brought up the bedroom, and Roy tried to explain to him that he needed the locks to be outside or else the military would suspect that Roy wasn't taking his responsibility seriously. Maes knew that he was right, but still, he hated that Mustang could choose whether or not Edward was allowed out of his room.

But, despite all that, the drinking was going to cease, and that was better than nothing. Breathing in the scent of his beautiful wife's cooking, he hung his jacket on the coat rack and continued to the kitchen, where he found his family, his wife Gracia, his daughter Elicia and his son Alphonse, sitting at the table, graciously gobbling down pancakes drowned in syrup. Gracia looked up at him as he came in and closed her eyes in silent laughter at him eyeing the syrup-covered pancakes. "Hey honey." She said, and the children looked up.

"Mawning Daddy!" Elicia chirped through a mouthful of food.

"Good morning Maes." Alphonse said a little more politely, making sure he swallowed his food before speaking.

"Good morning my beautiful family." He said, a smile on his face, and while Elicia merely smiled back and returned her attention to her food, Alphonse beamed, his eleven year old face stretched in a genuine grin. It warmed Maes' heart to be able to make the young boy smile like that, and he took every opportunity he was given to make it happen.

"So, how is everyone this morning?" He asked them.

"I drew a picture!" Elicia said.

"Did you just? Can I see it?"

"Yup!" She pulled a piece of paper out from underneath her bottom and thrust it towards him, and he took it in his hands and admired the colourfully drawn artwork. It was a beautiful picture of their family, all standing in a row. From left to right it featured himself, Gracia, Ed, Al and Elicia herself, all dressed in various colours. Crayon-Maes wore blue, Gracia green, Ed red, Alphonse wore orange and Elicia wore pink. Maes grinned.

"It's amazing, sweetie! We'll have to show it to Ed as soon as he gets home tonight!" Alphonse snapped his head up.

"He's coming home tonight?" He squealed.

"He sure is!"

"Wooo hoooo!" Alphonse leaped into the air, pumping his fists. Maes pulled him into a hug.

Later, Maes smiled, remembering the look on his youngest son's face. He ploughed through his work throughout the day, and the second it was all finished, long before lunch break had even started, he was gone, speed-walking his way to the hospital. He barely remembered to let the administrator know who he was going to see before practically barging through Ed's door, only just remembering his manners and knocking. He heard Ed invite him to come in and opened the door, a huge smile on his face.

It dropped as soon as he saw Ed.

He looked, in a word, terrible. His face was pale and sweating, he had bags under his eyes and his right arm was trembling. He was sitting cross legged on his bed, hugging himself with his arms. Very faintly, Maes could see tear tracks staining his cheeks.

Wordlessly, he moved over to Ed, sitting on the bed beside him, putting his arm around Ed's shoulder and pulling him in. Ed leaned in after a moment, and he felt the poor boy's body begin to relax, albeit only a little.

"Ed? What's wrong?" He asked gently.

"N-nothing."

"You can tell me. You know you can. What is it?"

"It's just...everything." Ed whispered. "Just everything." He didn't need to say anymore; Maes understood. He pulled Ed even closer and wrapped his other arm around the boy's small frame, remembering a time when he would look at Ed and see a muscled boy who looked too experienced for his years. Now, when he looked at Ed, he only saw a strong child that tried to be too strong for his own good. A child that had seen to much and been dealt too much. Someone that needed more love than he was used to.

"Hey, it's okay." He said, after a few minutes of silent embrace. "Come on. Do you have your stuff?" He felt Ed nod against his chest.

"Are you ready to go home." Ed shook his head.

"Alright." Maes said. "Let me know when you are."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Somewhere around ten minutes later, Ed nodded his head. He still wasn't sure if he was ready to go home and see the faces of everyone he loved, but they were waiting for him, and he couldn't make them wait any longer. He would just have to pull himself back together on the way there.

Not wanting to, he pulled himself away from the embrace and slid from the bed, picking up the handle of his trunk and looking back at Maes. The man smiled softly at him and stepped to the door, and Ed followed behind. They signed out of the hospital and exited the place, and then they were standing in the cool, fresh air and Ed breathed it in. It smelled so much better than the hospital did.

Trying to pull his lips into a smile, and not being entirely certain he'd managed it, he nodded to Maes and they walked back to the apartment.

"You know, with all these kids, Gracia and I might just have to buy a house to fit you all!" Maes said as the walked.

"No you won't." Ed said back. "There's only two."

Maes stopped.

"Three." He said firmly. Ed frowned in confusion.

"Elicia...Al...that's only two." He tried to laugh. "Jeez, Maes, where did you learn to count?"

"Elicia, Al...and you." He replied, not sharing Ed's laugh. "You're my son too, Ed, not just Al. Don't forget that."

"Okay..." Ed agreed, still feeling uncertain. No matter how many times Maes said it, it always felt like such a strange concept to him, even when it did feel right most of the time. How could a person like him ever have such a great person for a dad as Maes Hughes? How could he even deserve one? "But...I don't live with you. Only Al." At that, Maes smiled, just a little bit.

"But I'm doing my best to fix that." He responded.

"Fix it?"

"Fix it." He repeated. "Fix it so that you live with us too." Ed blinked back tears and swallowed.

"Yeah, okay..."

They continued their walk in silence, every so often eyeing each other, but neither of them making any effort to begin a conversation. When they finally were within seeing distance of the apartment, Edward swallowed. He was returning the place he ha missed for weeks, but now that he was actually here, a torrent of fear washed over him. It would all be different now, wouldn't it? They would all know by now, surely, that he had let Hakuro abuse him for days, let him treat him like an animal (not that he wasn't one). He had let himself be humiliated by the man, and he hated himself for that fact.

He caught Maes' eye and the older man nodded at him, a slight, reassuring smile touching his lips. They both stepped forward into the building and took the stairs up to the fifth floor. They could have easily taken the elevator, but Maes must have known that Ed still needed a few minutes to properly compose himself. And for that, Edward was grateful. Again.

Edward held his breath as Maes opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside, gesturing for Ed to follow. He did and they walked to the living room, and Ed let his breath free.

Al and Elicia were mock-wrestling on the ground, Gracia watching on with a tight smile, and Ed could see her fighting herself trying to decide whether or not she should let them continue or tell them to stop. She looked up for and for a split second Ed couldn't breathe again and then suddenly her arms were around him and he leaned into the embrace of his mother figure. It felt like it had been forever since he had been able to feel her arms around him...

He had missed it sorely.

"Welcome back, Ed." She said, breathless herself.

"Hey, Gracia." He said, his throat tight.

"Ed!" Alphonse's yell was loud in his ears and then suddenly the full force of his eleven year old brother barrelled into him and the three of them were knocked to the ground. "Edyou'rebackohmyGodImissedyousomuch!" Ed sat up, his brother's arms still wrapped tightly around him, and he realised that Gracia had let go and had stood back but Ed stopped noticing his surroundings because his baby brother was here and he needed Ed and Ed needed Al and he wrapped his own arms around his little brother's slightly smaller form and held on like he'd never be able to hold on again.

"Oh God Al." He breathed. "It's so good to see you. You have no idea how good it is to see you." Al squeezed him even tighter and Ed did the same. After all this time, even after he and Al had grown apart and stopped being each other's shadows, they were still brothers and they still needed each other. Al still needed him, even if he didn't really, but Ed knew that he needed Al and he wasn't going to let anything more get between them. He was okay with Al having his own friends and his own new and different interests, but he would never let anything permanent take Al away from him. Never.

"Little brother?" Ed looked up from his resting place at Al's shoulder to see Elicia standing there. No matter how much he always hated being called 'little', ever since they had first met Elicia had grown into a habit of calling him 'little brother', and Ed realised now how much he had taken that one thing for granted. Not for the first time that day, he blinked back tears.

"Come here." He whispered, lifting up one arm from Al and watching as Elicia ran into it, tears in her little three year old eyes, and felt her smack into him and he curled his arm around her tiny frame, and for the first time, he realised how much he really thought of her as the baby sister he had never had.

This time, he couldn't stop the tears.

And for once...he didn't really mind.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring the violence  
> It's significant  
> To the life  
> If you've ever known anyone  
> Bring the violence  
> It's significant  
> To the life  
> Can you feel it?
> 
> ~Violence Fetish (Disturbed)

Edward wandered through the empty hallways, his bare flesh foot padding softly on the cold concrete, his auto-mail clinking as he went. It took him a few moments to recognise the fact that he was stark naked, but it didn't bother him anymore - not really. In this place, naked was the only thing he'd ever been.

His bangs brushed his face as he opened a door and a blast of energy hit him - alchemic energy - and he was blasted back into the wall behind him, and he fell to the floor, his back screaming at him. His back wasn't the only thing that screamed as his auto-mail was ripped from him, tearing at his flesh. New limbs were sewn to his skin by the energy, and he shrieked as the nerves met one another and connected together. He threw his head back and continued to scream as his body changed, as his bones snapped and altered, as everything that made him a human was ripped away from him. He arched his back and slid up the wall, his entire body trembling.

Suddenly there were rough hands at his shoulders, their skin burning him like fire. They shoved him back down to the floor, and they twisted him around and pressed his face into the ground. "No!" He shrieked. His plea was cut off as the man gripping him entered into him, excruciating pain exploding into him from the rear. He screamed as the man who's face he had never seen rammed into him, again and again, and there was nothing there anymore and he had faded away into the nothingness that surrounded Ed.

Tears streaked down his face, he fought for his breath. Something slammed into him from behind, and his breath came away with droplets of blood that splattered onto the floor. Without turning around he knew that it had been empty air that his hit him.

Coughing again, he spewed thick red blood that could have filled a lake, and when he could finally breathe again, he curled into a ball, wet and stained in the lake of his blood. He hurt all over, and no matter how tightly he squeezed himself, no matter how much he tried to expel the pain, it was always there.

Always.

Ed gasped, launching forward in his bed, slick with sweat.

He looked around frantically, taking in his surroundings. He was in his room, at the Hughes' apartment. Well, it wasn't really his room, per say, it was his brothers room, seeing as how Ed had only been staying here a few nights and would only been staying for a few more. It had been his room once, before Al had managed to get out of Resembool, and then Maes had added an extra bed to the room once Al got his body back, and since then it had been their room. But in a few days, it would only be Al's.

Ed looked over to see Al still soundly asleep on his own bed on the other side of the room. Despite himself, Ed smiled at his little (bigger) brother, who's short hair was spread about on his pillow, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Even in the dark, Ed could see the slight smile that touched his brother's lips. Al must have been having a good dream.

Almost unconsciously, Ed brought up his mismatched arms to his face. The left arm was deeply tanned, a result of his time spent in the sun. His right arm was still so much paler, and Ed had come to realise that it was because Ed just had much darker skin than whoever the owner of this arm was.

Just the thought of that still made Ed feel sick inside.

Sometimes, Ed wondered if he shouldn't just have the foreign limbs amputated and just get his auto-mail back. It would have it's advantages, definitely. He could hit harder, kick harder, without hurting himself, and besides, being able to Transmute his arm into a weapon had been an ability that had saved his ass in more than a few fights. Even now, he still went to do it every now and again before remembering that he didn't have any auto-mail to alter.

Winry would be absolutely delighted with him if he asked her to make him another set.

But, then he began to wander. What would happen if he had the auto-mail when he transformed into his wolf form? He was slightly bigger in that form, and even if the auto-mail could withstand the change, he could seriously damage his shoulder and his leg if something went wrong during the transformation. He supposed he could always just...not make the transformation, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that he'd never have to again. Whoever had made him this way had done so for a reason, and he seriously doubted they wouldn't be back to get him sooner or later and force him to serve his purpose, whatever they thought that was.

No. The auto-mail wouldn't work.

He clenched his fists. He had always taken the metal appendages for granted, but now he found himself wanting them back more than ever, if only to get rid of these other limbs that didn't belong to him. He felt disgusted by himself every time he looked at them.

Exhausted, he shut his eyes, took a deep breath. He collapsed back onto his pillow and bit his tongue. He knew that he couldn't keep losing his sleep like this, not while he only had a few days left at the Hughes', but he couldn't help but wake up from his nightmares. Couldn't help but lie there while his mind raced. And no matter how much he tried to expel all thought from his head, they crept back to him.

So he lay there in bed, at God knew what time in the morning, thinking about everything.

Eventually he must have drifted back into sleep, because he woke up to a small form jumping onto him and completely killing his lungs.

"Little brother! Little brother! Wake up, wake up!"

He gasped, trying to return lost oxygen to his lungs. "What...do...you...want..." He gasped, taking in mouthfuls of air between each word.

"We gotta do auwchemy, we gotta do auwchemy!" For some reason, Elicia hadn't figured out yet that there was an 'l' in 'alchemy', so whenever she said the word her 'l' sounded like a 'w' instead. Ed laughed between breaths and when he finally regained his ability to breathe properly (doing his best to ignore the spotlets of red at the corner of his lips), he wiped spittle from his mouth and sat up. Al was laughing his head off on the other side of the room.

"Sure, Elicia. We can do some alchemy." He said, smiling down at the little girl he'd come to think of as his sister. "What do you want me to make you?"

She pursed her lips for a moment, thinking. "A train!" She exclaimed. "Choo choo!"

"I think I can manage that." He said.

"Less go!" She she squealed, grabbing Ed by the hand and yanking him out of his room, not even giving him the chance to get dressed.

And that was how he found himself outside, in Central City, in his boxer shorts.

Blood rushed to his face as he was dragged through streets, people looking at them, covering their mouths to keep from laughing, and some not even bothering. Well, at least he wasn't wearing anything particularly embarrassing, just regular white under-shorts, but still, this wasn't exactly how he'd planned to start his day.

Finally, they were at their private spot, where Elicia would get herself all muddy collecting materials for Ed and Ed would use them to make her whatever she wanted. Face red, Ed sat down on a grassy patch among the dirt while Elicia collected all the things she wanted Ed to use to make her a train. Ed smiled and watched her as she went about, picking up sticks and leaves and bits of clay and dumping them neatly into little piles next to him. As she went, he thought about what formulas he would need to use to Transmute a toy train out of everything he'd been given, and where they would be arranged.

After several minutes, Elicia was satisfied with what she had gathered, and came back to Ed, who was, much to his distress, still wearing nothing but his boxers. Doing his best to remind himself that they were finally out of the public eye, he gently pushed Elicia's three piles of materials into one big pile, envisioning the circle he would have drawn. Once he knew what he was using he clapped his hands and pressed them to the ground beside the pile. Blue lightning shot out in a circle around the objects as they seemed to melt down and then reform before his eyes. The clay formed the base of the train and the leaves gave it a green colour. The small sticks blended together and became eight wheels, four on each side of the train.

And then the Transmutation was done, and Elicia squealed in delight, clapping her hands. Ed picked up the train and gave it to her, and she thanked him (in the cutest way possible, he noted with adoration) and wasted no time in flying the train around in the air, chanting 'choo choo' all the whiled. He smiled at her fondly as she played.

And then he froze.

Somewhere to his right, he could hear someone else clapping, slowly, mockingly.

"Ooooh, good job, pipsqueak." Edward didn't recognized the voice. "That looks very nice." The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and goosebumps ran along his skin. His instincts where telling him the this new person was dangerous, and Edward never ignored his instincts.

"Elicia." He said, keeping his eyes on the general direction of the voice. "Get behind me." The little girl he had come to think of as a sister didn't say a word, but obeyed him instantly, and from the corner of his eye he could see her gripping the train tightly in her arms. Her big brother was on alert, and so was she.

"Oh, yes, very brave, Fullmetal pipsqueak. Protect the child from the stranger. Good idea."

"Who are you?" Ed shouted, and a dark figure emerged from the small grove of trees. The figure was taller than Ed, but couldn't be any taller than Fuery, he didn't think. The voice was male, but the black halter top and the tight shorts (including the swathes of fabric at the front and back) made Edward decide on androgynous. The figure's hair looked like he had taken to it with several stores of hair gel with the imagery of a palm tree in mind. The person, who Ed decided looked early twenties in appearance, sported a red tattoo on his left thigh, though Ed couldn't make out what it was. But all this was only from a glance. What Ed was really focused on was the impressive amount of muscle in the arms, and the cold look in the eyes.

"Who, me?" He said. "You can call me Envy."

"That's a strange name you've got there, Envy." Ed replied cautious. Envy grinned.

"It is indeed, Boxer Boy."

Edward growled and clenched his right fist.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I offend you, pipsqueak?"

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SMALL AN ANT WOULD NEED A MAGNIFYING GLASS TO SEE?" Ed screamed reflexively.

"Calm down, pipsqueak, I-" But the androgynous palm tree Envy didn't get to finish his sentence, because in a flash of rage Edward ran at him and swung a punch for his gut. For a split second Ed knew he was going to make impact, and he prepared himself for the jolt, but then his fist met nothing but air and he swung forwards, off balance for only a moment before he regained his posture. He growled and swung another punch to his left, where Envy had dodged to, but the guy was fast, really fast, and every punch Ed swung missed by barely an inch, and all this did was fuel Ed's rage.

"Whoa, calm down already!" Envy exclaimed. "Seriously, I hate fighting! Stop!"

Ed pressed forward, feigning a punch to his opponent's head. Envy took the bait and dodged to the right, and when he did Ed dropped to the ground and swung out his leg in an arc, taking the man off his feet and falling on his behind. Ed lunged and slammed his fist into the exposed stomach, and when his fist made impact with the skin two things happened. First, Envy's breath was expelled from his lungs.

Second, Edward's knuckles broke.

"Shit!" He roared, jumping back and grasping his broken hand. Pain raced around his hand, making it feel like he'd dipped it in molten lava. Envy laughed and stood up.

"Did you really think that you could hurt me?" He said, eyes flashing. Up close, Ed could see that his eyes...weren't normal. They were a deep shade of purple, for a start, and the pupils were...they were lit like a cats!

"What the Hell?" He whispered. "What are you?"

"I'm a Homunculus, pipsqueak." He said.

"That's impossible. Homunculi aren't real. They're just a myth." Edward spat, remembering back to the days he had spent reading his father's alchemy books.

"Is that so?" Envy challenged. "Well, then, explain this."

Ed gasped as red lightning started to spark from Envy's feet, and they...changed. The red lightning that reminded Ed of alchemy's blue lightning travelled up the man's body and as it went, he changed. By the time the lightning reached the top of his head, Ed could barely breathe. Because he wasn't looking at Envy anymore.

He was looking at himself!

"What the fuck?" He whispered, completely enthralled by what he was looking at. The details where perfect. The eyes, the hair, the nose, the face. If he didn't know better he'd think he was looking into a mirror. He stared, both fascinated and horrified.

"Impressed?" Envy asked with Ed's own voice. If Ed had been at all capable of answering, he would have had to admit that he'd have been lying if he'd said that he wasn't. "Thought so." Envy said after a moment, and the red lighting returned and then the other Ed was gone, replaced by Envy.

The sight of what Ed now did not doubt was a real homunculus brought him back to his senses.

"Alright, I'll admit." He said, trying to keep an air of cool collect. "That was pretty impressive. So, Envy, what exactly do you use that neat power of yours for?"

"Oh, lot's of things." The homunculus said.

"Like what?" Edward wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." Envy replied. Ed furrowed his eyebrows. For a few moments, both of them were silent. Then, Ed remembered that he was still in his underwear. His face went red again.

"I think I'm gonna...go home now..." He said, backing away slowly, as though Envy was a lion he didn't want to startle.

"No, you're not."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

For possibly the thousandth time, Hughes looked over all of his case files for what had now been officially titled the 'Human-Chimera' case. He had been going over these files for two hours already, and he still couldn't make the connection. All the other victims that had been turned into chimeras where all soldiers from the Ishval war, soldiers that had sustained fatal injuries and deemed close to death. He even recognized a few of them. He remembered watching one of the men having half of himself blown to pieces trying to find cover from a bomb, and being shipped back to Central Royal Hospital to try to save his life. When he returned home, he heard that the man had died upon arrival at the hospital. Maes had never known that the man had never even gone there.

But that was the thing.

It would have been so easy for whoever had orchestrated all of this to just take injured soldiers from the battlefield to experiment on and then just declare them dead to avoid being found out. And it had worked so well, for years, it had worked. Nobody had ever even had the slightest clue what was going on down there in East City.

So why take Edward?

Why kidnap the most famous State Alchemist in the history of Amestris? Surely they would have known that taking Edward would only be a hindrance to them. That they would be found out sooner or later the moment Ed set foot in their little base of operations. What reason could they possibly have had for taking him?

There was a possibility that they didn't know who he was when they took him, and by the time they found out it was too late, but Edward had said he'd been targeted. The men that had kidnapped him knew exactly who he was and how he fought. It had been planned.

So why, then?

There had to be some deeper reason for all of this. This couldn't have been just a random break in the pattern, there was a reason Ed had been targeted. There had to be. But for the life of him Maes just couldn't find it.

Groaning, he took off his glasses and put his head in his hands. None of this was making any sense, and it was giving him a migraine. Rubbing his eyes, he got back to reading the files, replacing his glassed on his nose. The more he read, the less sense it seemed to make that Edward had been chosen for this brutal punishment.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"What?"

"I said, no, you're not going home. You're coming with me."

"Like Hell I am!" Edward snarled.

"I'd like to see you try and stop me, Fullmetal pipsqueak." Envy said, a grin plastered to his face.

"I'M NOT A PIPSQUEAK!"

"Tell you what." Envy said. "Come with me quietly, and you won't get hurt."

"Like Hell I'm going anywhere with you!" Edward shouted and lunged, doing his best to keep his right fist out of the fighting. He kicked and he punched and he clawed but all he could manage was a fluke every now and then. Envy was just so fast, and Edward was out of practise.

He snarled and ducked low, the threw his fist up high, smacking Envy in the chin. He felt the homunculus' jaw smash closed on impact. Ed did his best to ignore the searing pain in his broken right fist, which, on instinct, was the one he'd used to hit the homunculus. Envy stumbled backwards, dazed, and Ed saw his chance. He lunged forward and held his left hand out in front of Envy's neck, then swung his leg hard into the back of his knees. Envy went down and Ed ducked back as he fell.

Envy hit the ground and twisted, jumping back to his feet and only just avoiding a heel to the face. The homunculus jumped into the air and back-flipped, landing a few feet away from Elicia. Panic swelled in Ed and he charged as the little girl ran to hide behind a tree, but the homunculus hadn't seemed to notice her. His attention was on Edward. Good. Ed swung another punch with his left fist, and Envy ducked to the side, swinging a punch of his own. Ed ducked down to avoid it, but the moment he did he realised that the punch was a feign, and for his mistake he was rewarded with a knee to the face.

He was launched backwards from the impact, and fell onto the dirt a few feet away. Stars in his eyes, he jumped up as the homunculus came at him, and not for the first time, Ed wished he had his auto-mail to back him up. He could have Transmuted a blade to use as a shield, at least.

Transmute.

Of course, he was such an idiot. He was so filled with rage that he'd completely forgotten about alchemy. Without another thought, he clapped his hands and slammed them into the ground, and spikes shot into the air around Envy, but he was too fast and dodged them all before they could hit him. Ed tried again, but this time made the spikes smaller and more frequent. This time he homunculus could only dodge so much, and two of them caught him, on on the shoulder and one to the opposite hip. Blood spurted from the wounds, and for a moment Ed had the upper hand. His opponent was injured.

And then he wasn't.

Ed blinked in horror as red lightning shot from the wounds, and in a few seconds the homunculus was completely healed over. Not even a scar. It was as though Ed had thrown a pillow at him for all the damage he had done.

It was then that Edward realised he was well and truly screwed. If this guy could heal over every wound Ed inflicted upon him, then he could go on forever, completely unharmed. Edward, on the other hand, did not have that advantage. As his head cleared, along with the mind-numbing rage, Edward recognised that this was a losing battle, and that the safest option was to find a way to retreat.

As Envy lunged for him again, instead of trying to counter-attack, he focused on blocking, trying his best to prevent the homunculus from injuring him any further. It was easier to concentrate on protecting himself now that he didn't have to think about attacking, and Envy's successful blows became less and less as Ed blocked and dodged and ducked. Ed was losing ground, but he figured that if Envy had waited until his was relatively alone and isolated before approaching him, then he probably didn't want to draw too much attention to himself. If Ed could take this fight back to the streets, he might have a chance of escaping.

As he was blocking a nasty punch from Envy, a flash of pink ran by in his peripheral vision, and his eyes flickered to Elicia running to a tree further away from the fight. His attention otherwise occupied for the moment, he misjudged the block and Envy's fist grazed his cheek. Shit!

The homunculus suddenly stopped and jumped back, and when Ed saw where he was looking, his heart stopped.

"ELICIA! RUN!" He screamed, but it was too late, Envy's arm was crackling with red lightning, and what was once a right arm turned into a massive grey blob that barely resembled an arm, and it lunged for Elicia as she ran and scooped her up, shrieking, and yanked her back to the homunculus. Elicia screamed and squirmed and tried to wriggle out of Envy's grip, but the homunculus held on tight and did not release her.

"Let her go!" Edward screamed.

"And why would I do that?" Envy taunted. He looked down at little Elicia and licked his lips.

"Please!" Edward pleaded. "Please, don't hurt her! I'll do whatever you want, just please let her go!"

"Anything I want?"

"ANYTHING! Just please let her go!" Tears threatened to fall from his eyes but he held them back, completely forgetting to breathe as he waited for Envy to make a decision. By now, Elicia had stopped struggling, she was staring up at Envy, her green eyes glistening with tears and full of terror. "Please just let her go." Ed whispered.

Envy seemed to be thinking it over. "Well..." he said eventually. "Seeing as how you asked so nicely, I'll let her go, just this once." He dropped Elicia onto the ground, and she scrambled to her feet and ran for the cover of the trees. When she stopped, Edward roared at her.

"Run home Elicia! Run!" She looked back only for a moment before running as fast as her legs could carry her, the little green train still clutched under her arm.

When she was out of eyeshot, Ed looked back at Envy, who was grinning so widely Ed thought his face might break. "Now, where were we?" He asked.

"I was about to kick your ass!"

"Now, now, you said you'd do anything I wanted if I let the girly go. I let her go. Time to keep your end of the bargain, short stuff."

"Sorry, I don't make deals with monsters!" Ed said. Envy pouted in mock hurt.

"You wound me, Edward." He said. "That was mean."

"I'm sure you'll live."

"I'm sure I will." Envy said, and then the homunculus sprang forward, dirt flying, and Edward tried to duck back but Envy caught him with a fist to the cheek and Ed fell. Envy let him fall and then lifted him up by his bangs, pulling harshly at his hair. Ed tried to twist and kick out, but Envy stomped on his ankle and Ed shouted as he felt something in there crack. Envy pulled him up to whisper in his ear.

"I guess you lost, pipsqueak." He said, and swung a punch into Ed's forehead. Pain exploded in his skull and he went limp, and he barely registered Envy swinging him over his shoulder and taking a step when he fell into the black abyss of unconsciousness.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cause it's almost like  
> Your heaven's trying everything to break me down  
> Cause it's almost like  
> Your heaven's trying everything  
> Your heaven's trying everything to break me down  
> To break me down  
> To break me down
> 
> Your heaven's trying everything  
> Your heaven's trying everything to break me down
> 
> ~Far From Home (Five Finger Death Punch)

"So, now that you've managed to re-capture him, what do you plant to do, Envy?" A woman's voice said over the pounding in Edward's skull.

"That's a good question." Another voice responded. Envy. Ed tried to open his eyes, but found that when he did, he still could see nothing. He became aware of a strip of fabric over his eyes. As his senses returned, he also realised that both of his arms were shackled together above his head. He pulled down slightly, and heard a chain clink. The voices stopped conversing.

"Looks like he's waking up." The woman said.

"Looks like it." Envy said. Footsteps, slapping on hard concrete. Edward stiffened. "Hey, pipsqueak! You awake?" Ed said nothing.

"Poor Envy." The woman laughed. "He's ignoring you."

"Shut up, hag." Envy snapped. "Come on, pipsqueak, don't be like that." Ed flinched as he felt cold fingers grab a hold of his chin, tilting it upwards. He tried to rip away, but the grip tightened to the point of bruising. "Don't ignore me, little one." He said, his voice soft but his tone cold. Edward shifted, and became aware that his legs weren't bound. He was standing, half suspended in the air by whatever was holding up his arms. He tensed his abdomen suddenly, throwing up his legs and his bare feet made contact with a startled Envy's stomach, and the homunculus - Ed still could hardly believe that it was true - was thrown back, and Ed heard his land on his ass. He had to hold back from grinning.

"You little runt!" Envy snarled, and he stood up and backhanded Ed across the face. Ed's head snapped to the side, and his right cheek burned from the impact. "How dare you! You think you're smart, don't you, you little bastard!" Envy punched Ed in the gut, and Ed gasped as the breath flew from him, the sheer force of the blow winding him. "But you are, aren't you? A bastard. You're father never married your mother before he fucked her, did he? He fucked her and then you were born. I'll bet he never wanted you from the start, did he pipsqueak? Why else would he have left you all-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP YOU BASTARD!" Edward screamed, tears threatening to leak from beneath the blindfold. "You don't know anything!"

Envy just laughed. "Aw, did I strike a nerve, Fullmetal Pipsqueak. Hey, Lust! Look at that! He's crying!" Edward shouted and kicked out, his foot slamming into Envy's shin. The homunculus swore, and then his fist connected with the side of Ed's head, twice, three times. Pain exploded in his skull and he sagged, gasping, the metal shackles biting harshly into his skin at the weight of his limp body.

"G-go to Hell." He grunted.

Envy laughed before wrapping a hand around Ed's neck and squeezing tightly. "Oh, don't worry, pipsqueak. I've already got a ticket. Maybe I'll lend it to you."

"Don't need one." Ed coughed, blood dribbling from his lips. "I've already got a free pass. Had it for years."

"I'd be careful there, little one-"

"-DON'T CALL ME LITTLE!"

"-You almost got you're little friend in the pink dress killed before, you know? You know how easy it would have been? To rip her tiny little head from her tiny little body." Envy taunted. Edward screamed.

"Don't you ever touch her again!"

"Or...what, exactly? You gonna love tap me again, like before?"

"I'd like to see that." The woman, Lust, piped up.

"Because you can't hurt me." Envy continued. "So, here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna take of that pesky blindfold you've got there, and we're gonna have some fun, okay?"

Ed wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what Envy constituted as 'fun'.

He felt Envy's hands reach behind his head and begin to untie the knot of the blindfold, and when the Homunculi's hand brushed his face he barely managed to suppress a snarl. He didn't want that...thing...touching him, much less his face. Besides, just the touch of his cold hand reminded Ed of...that place.

He blinked as light flooded into his eyes as Envy took away the dark fabric, and he quickly took in his surroundings. Not that there was much to see. It was a bare, claystone room, and based on the Transmutation marks, it had been hollowed out by alchemy.

Oh, God...

Suddenly, Ed was filled with memories of the day he had escaped the underground laboratory, the first time he had ever been able to actually see his cell, and it had looked almost identical to this. No, I can't be back there! He thought desperately. I just can't!

Envy's laughter snapped him out of his moment of panic, and he looked at the Homunculus, who was doubled over, shoulders shaking, attempting to breathe. "Oh man! Look at his face!" He gasped. "Think he recognises the place?" Ed clenched his trembling fists.

"It's possible." The woman said, and only now could Ed get a look at her and realise how...much of her there was. She wasn't overweight, not even close, but, Jesus! Her cleavage was...just...enormous, and Ed seriously hoped he didn't start blushing at the fact that her boobs were practically falling out of her tight black dress that flowed to her ankles. She wore high heeled boots that clacked on the floor every time she moved, and long black hair the bunched up and curled at the ends.

Her eyes were exactly the same as Envy's.

She also bore a tattoo right above her enormous -there really was no other word- cleavage, a snake -or was that a dragon?- eating it's own tail, its spikes jutting to the side. There were two overlapping triangles, a six pointed star, inside the dragon.

"After all, he probably got a good look of the place when he escaped, damn brat." Her voice was husky, alluring, flirtatious, and Ed decided her name was probably accurate. Lust. One of the seven deadly sins. Envy, another.

"Where am I?" He said, trying to make his voice as threatening as possible, trying to erase the ever increasing fear that coiled tighter and tighter in his gut.

"This may look the same, but it's not where you were a year ago, unfortunately. When you're military friends found you we had to scrap the entire operation, at least for the time being. It was very annoying to say the least." Lust answered, frowning at him.

"What do you know about all that?" He demanded.

"Aw, that wouldn't be anywhere near as much fun if we just told you, pipsqueak." Envy answered, grinning. "It'd be so much more fun to just let you stew here for a few months trying to figure it out!"

"Sorry, but I ain't staying here that long." Edward said, not sure if he believed himself. The fact that these, inhuman things, seemed to know about where he'd been held last year disturbed him, terrified him even.

"Aw. And here I thought you'd be my play mate." Envy pouted.

"'Fraid that doesn't sound too great, so I'll just pass."

Envy smirked at him. "You make it sound as though you've got a choice." The Homunculus leaned in close, until his lips were almost touching Ed's left ear. Ed stiffened, the proximity sending jolts of fear through him. "Well guess what, pipsqueak? You don't. You're gonna stay here for as long as I want you to. So, pipsqueak, what should we-"

Envy was cut off when Edward twisted his neck around and slammed his forehead into Envy's temple, and Envy shouted, pulling away from Ed and holding his head. The Homunculi's eyes flashed and his expression went dark, and for a few moments his entire body started to crackle, and Ed could have sworn his skin took on a green tinge, before the woman Homunculus said "Envy", in a warning tone, and Envy's body stopped crackling.

His expression, however, only got worse.

He stalked forward and punched Ed in the face with the force of twenty men, and his head snapped to the side, pain roaring in his cheek. He gasped, but Envy wasn't done. His leg snaked up and made contact with Ed's side, just below the ribs, and then without a moment's pause the Homunculi's knee slammed into Ed's stomach and his vision clouded as the breath rushed out of him, leaving him winded and gasping.

"Envy, that's enough." Ed barely heard Lust say, and Envy grumbled in response. "We don't want him in too bad a condition when Father comes to meet him later on. Let's go, before you kill him."

"Oh, alright." Envy whined. "Just a sec."

Ed's vision cleared just enough for him to see Envy's right arm crackle with red lightning, watched as his arm morphed into a blade with the resemblance of a scythe before out of nowhere, agony exploded in his lower half, and Ed barely registered the fact that Envy had sliced him, from the right side of his abdomen and halfway across his stomach, and he shouted in pain as the unexpected action left him no time to prepare. He took in shallow breaths as blood began to trickle from the wound, and over the roaring in his ears he heard Envy and Lust arguing, unable to make out what they were saying.

He was barely conscious of them leaving the room, slamming the iron door behind them.

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Time trickled by agonisingly slowly as Ed steadily managed to regain awareness through the searing pain in his side. Eventually he realised that the wound wasn't really very deep; it wasn't bleeding as much as he would have expected. That was good.

At some point, he managed to reclaim a steady flow of breath. Closing his eyes, he slumped under the shackles, hanging from his wrists, trying to take some weight off of his feet, and, more importantly, his side. Every now and then, a nerve or two would shoot off a random spark of pain, catching him by surprise and forcing him to suck in huge lungfuls of air that pained him even more. Moving so much as an inch hurt, and it didn't leave much room for thinking.

So he hung there, waiting for this 'Father' person to stop by for a visit.

He frowned, doing his best to scrape together a train of thought. Father? These creatures had a father? It took far longer than it should have for his mind to realise they most likely meant the alchemist that had created them. But that was Human Transmutation. Any alchemist skilled enough to do something like that he should already know about. He tried to scrape together a list of powerful alchemists that he knew of, but only a few people came to mind, the first one being his Teacher. A pang of guilt struck him at the thought, for two reasons. Izumi Curtis would never do something so...wrong. Had she not spent years trying to drill into his head that Human Transmutation was a boundary that no alchemist should ever overstep? No, it couldn't have been her.

He remembered that he hadn't seen his teacher in years, and made a mental note to go visit her the next time he got the chance.

If he got the chance. He had to get out of this first.

He did his best to summon as much of his energy as he could. He had to get out of here. He didn't know who the alchemist that the Homunculi called 'Father' was, but he had the feeling he didn't want to wait around and find out. That it wouldn't end well for him if he did.

But he could think of nothing, and he clenched his fists in anger. His knuckles brushed.

And then it occurred to him.

Oh, those Homunculi were clever, alright, but not clever enough. Not clever enough to keep his hands separated to prevent him from using his alchemy.

He clapped his hands quietly, and felt the familiar surge of power circle through him, and he could practically feel it crackling it his fingertips, ready and waiting at his disposal. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his hands around the chains that held his arms up and they crumbled away to nothing. His arms fell down in exhaustion and pain shredded through his side at the movement. He gasped and fell to his knees, his wrists still shackled together. He pressed his palms together again and curled his fingertips around, trying to reach the metal. After a moment, he felt his skin touch the cold steel and the shackled broke from his wrists and fell to the ground, blue lightning crackling as they reformed into a small butter knife, the handle intricately designed with two demonic horses rearing at each other.

He may be in pain, but that couldn't quell his sense of style.

Gently, he picked up the knife and stuck the handle in his mouth, grunting as he slowly stood up. Pain flared and he growled, biting down hard on the knife handle. He pushed through the pain and managed to stand up, and, slowly, so, so slowly, he shuffled to the door. Each step he took sent another jolt of pain through him, and he could still feel blood trailing it's way down his exposed skin. Eventually, he made it to the door, and, after a moment's hesitation, clapped his hands and pressed them to the iron surface.

Alchemy crackled as the iron began to melt down and reform, until he held in his hand a spear with a wicked double-edged blade, another demonic horse screaming at him from the centre. Knowing that the Homunculi had to have heard such a large Transmutation, he took a tentative step forward, decided, screw it, and started running.

Agony screamed through him but he pushed it aside, focusing on where he was going. He had absolutely no idea where he was or where he was going or how to get out, but he knew that if he just kept pressing forward he would find and exit somewhere.

He turned countless corners, but didn't come across anyone at all, and, finally, he slowed to a walk. His bare feet were bleeding and his skin was cold despite. His chest was heaving and his head was pounding, but he couldn't stop. He had to press forward. Had to keep moving.

Eventually he came across some sort of river, and he realised it was sewerage. He stopped for a moment to listen, and he heard the steady stream of filth off to his left crash against itself, and he knew he had to go right. If he could just follow the stream of disgusting-ness to where it came from, he could find a way out.

The river wound and twisted and he hoped he didn't have to remember any directions, because he knew there was just no chance of it.

He made too many turns to count, and his side throbbed like a bitch, but he did his best to ignore it and press forward, as quietly as he could on his bare, burning feet. A cool breeze brushed by him and he shivered, hugged himself. Then he paused. Breeze?

Excitement filled him and he started to move a little bit faster. If there was a breeze then that meant he was reaching the end of this endless maze of sewers, and, finally, he would be free. His excitement was quickly dashed.

"Oh, Edward!" A faint voice called from behind him. Envy. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" He wasn't close, he had to be at least five or six corners behind him, and there were lots of possible tunnels he could have taken, but Envy wasn't stupid, unfortunately. It wouldn't take him long to figure out that Ed was following the sewerage stream, and once he did...well, Ed could only hope that wouldn't happen.

He picked up his pace, straining to see where he was going; it wasn't exactly bright down here, and he didn't dare make a torch.

He turned three more corners, and the breeze picked up slightly, and he could see light coming from around the next bend. He picked up his pace even more.

His mistake.

He tripped on something on the ground, a bone, and it clattered across the ground, coming to rest a few seconds later. He didn't move a muscle. A few seconds later, he heard Envy laugh, and he bolted. He didn't bother looking where he was going anymore; Envy already knew where he was.

He sprinted for his life around the next corner and could have cried when he saw the iron ladder running up the wall to a drainage lid, and he didn't take the time to acknowledge that he was definitely underneath a road, most likely near the center of Central City, because Envy burst into the room and without thinking, he spun around and threw his spear, not bothering to wait and see if he hit his mark. He must have, because a moment later Envy roared as the spear pissed his flesh, and he leaped for the ladder and started to climb, reaching the top quickly despite the pain and throwing open the lid.

Light flooded in and he went to jump out, but then he felt a hand grab his foot, and he twisted around as Envy began to pull him down the ladder. In the space of two seconds, Ed grabbed the knife hilt from his mouth, and stabbed the blade right through the Homunculi's eye.

Envy screamed and let go, falling to the ground with a harsh thump, and Ed didn't bother grabbing the knife back. He scrambled up the small hole, grasping for the lid. He could hear people around him, gasping and likely pointing, but he ignored them. Envy was getting up, his eye already healing, and he was looking at Edward with a glare that could have killed him. Hastily, he grabbed the lid and slammed it back where it belonged, slapping his hands together and permanently sealing the grated lid back into the ground for good.

He could hear Envy shouting in rage below him, and he allowed himself a moment of rest. If his theory was correct, which he hoped it was, then Envy hopefully wouldn't attack him in public. He took in a deep breath and winced. Now that his adrenaline was starting to fade, he could feel his wound even more than he could before. It was a sharp, constant pain that jabbed into his side like a sword. He made a noise in his throat halfway between a gasp and a grunt as he tried to stand. He swayed on his feet and his head spun, but he took one step forward, and then another, and his legs collapsed from underneath him. He fell to his knees and bit his lip so hard to avoid crying out that he split it. Blood dribbled slowly down his chin and he wiped it away.

"Damn it." He muttered. He could feel people's eyes on him, the Fullmetal Alchemist, practically naked in the streets of Central with a bleeding wound in his side, too weak to even stand. "Damn it!" He forced himself to his feet, swaying again, but this time he didn't fall. He slowly made his way to the phone booth at the end of the street, noticing the street sign as he passed it. Half dead on his feet, he slid into the phone booth and dialed a number. It only rang twice before Gracia's cheerful voice answered, but something was off.

"Hughes residence." She said, and Ed could hear the strain in her voice.

"Gracia." He managed, and he heard her gasp on the other end of the line.

"Ed! Where are you? Are you okay?!" He heard voices in the background and figured it was probably Al and Elicia. Ed gave her the name of the street he was in, and asked her to send Hughes.

"Oh, and...can you please ask him to bring me some clothes?" He added, embarrassed.

"Of course." She said sceptically.

"I'm still in my underwear." He clarified. He heard her giggle slightly over the phone.

"Sure dear. I'll let Al know where you are."

"No!" Ed said a little too quickly. Gracia paused. "I...just tell Hughes to get down here with some clothes, please?" She hesitated.

"Sure, Ed." She said at last. "Ed, just tell me, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, just a little tired."

"Alright Edward."

"Thanks, Gracia." He breathed, and hung up. Exhausted, he leaned against the glass wall of the phone booth, and slid down. His eyelids drooped and he pulled in a deep breath through his lips. He could hear people around him, talking about him. probably laughing at him. But he didn't care. He was too tired to care. He pressed his hand to his injured side and felt warm, sticky blood cake his already caked hand. He exhaled, and his eyes closed and everything went black.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"-dward! Edward!" The voice cut through the hazy fog, and Ed slowly pulled his head back into reality. A blaring noise pierced his ears and he couldn't make out what it was. He sucked in a deep breath and blinked his eyes open, and he heard Hughes breath in relief.

"Thank God, Ed! I thought you weren't going to wake up!" He saw Hughes face practically phasing through his, and he saw the worry in those mossy green eyes.

"Hey, Maes." He croaked. His eyes flickered around and he saw that he was still in the phone booth, and his wound was seeping blood onto the floor. "Dammit." He groaned.

"Jesus, Ed! What happened to you?" Maes fretted, his eyes frantic.

"Long story." Ed croaked. "Don't s'pose you feel like...getting me outta here?"

"Shit! Sorry Ed, c'mon, let's go." He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Ed's shoulders, and Ed hissed when the fabric brushed his wound. "Sorry." Hughes muttered. Ed grumbled in response. Grunting, Ed began to stand. "Woah, hey! Whaddya think you're doing?"

"Getting off my ass." Ed said.

"Language." Maes scolded, but it was only half hearted. "Come on, if you have to get up, at least let me help you." Edward was about to snap - I don't need help! - but then he remembered who he was talking to. Maes Hughes, the one person in the entire world who understood him, really understood him, more than his own brother did even, and the one person who seemed to be able to make Ed see reason when normally he wouldn't. He took a moment to breathe, and nodded. He grabbed Maes' now outstretched hand and let himself be pulled to his feet, ignoring the sharp sting in his side. His vision went fuzzy for a few moments and he paused until it cleared. He stepped out of the booth behind Maes and realised what the blaring noise was that had been annoying him. A siren.

An ambulance siren.

"No." He said.

"No...?"

"I'm not going in an ambulance." Ed said. "It's not happening."

"Edward Elric." Maes said sternly, and his tone made Ed look up to his face. His fingers curled. He couldn't remember a time where Maes had spoken to him like that before, and that blossomed a strange feeling in his chest that he couldn't identify. "You are injured. I don't care what you say, you will be getting in the ambulance and you will be going to the hospital. Do you understand?"

Edward gulped. "Y-yeah."


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes to the castaways  
> Who break their backs slaving every day  
> All these things I can do without  
> Gotta burn it down, burn it down  
> Burn it down, burn it down  
> Burn it down, burn it down  
> Burn it down, burn it down
> 
> ~Burn it Down (Skillet)

Edward had run out of nights.

Last night was his last at the Hughes house.

And it had been spent underground in a cell.

Just the thought that he had wasted his last night made Edward want to scream, to throw something, to wreck something. But he couldn't. Because he was in a hospital, again, recovering from a piss poor injury that he didn't need to really even recover from! It wasn't even a deep wound! It only ran a couple of centimeters deep through his flesh, and it was already completely stitched up and bandaged, so he didn't understand why the doctors wouldn't let him leave.

"Come on Ed, you only need to stay another hour." Hughes was trying to help, but really all it did was make Ed mad.

"Another hour?!" He complained. "Dammit! I don't want to stay here another minute!" He slammed his fist on the little bedside table beside him and the wooden frame rattled, sending little bits and pieces toppling to the floor. "What's the big deal? I'm fine!"

"You are not fine, Ed! That wound is-"

"Not even an inch deep! I can barely even feel it anymore!" Maes frowned at him and Ed stopped arguing, knowing it would get nowhere. Hughes had become to much of a father to him, and Ed had learned when to concede. But that didn't mean he liked it. He took in a deep breath and huffed. He crossed his arms and clenched his fists, trying not to let his emotions rule him. He calmed slightly. It had been a good week, he didn't want to ruin it. Oh, wait. The sarcastic side of him drawled, reminding him of why he was here in the first place. His fowl mood returned to him in an instant, the drastic change didn't go unnoticed by his surrogate father.

"Ed. Talk to me." Maes said softly. "What's bothering you?" Ed opened his mouth. "And don't say 'the hospital'." Ed shut his mouth. "Seriously, Ed. What is it?"

Ed took in a deep breath. "Last night was the last night I was allowed to stay with you." He breathed. "And I wasn't there."

"Oh, Ed." Maes' green eyes looked sad as the man struggled to find something to say, and eventually, he simply said, "I'm sorry." Ed looked down. "Most people, people who didn't know him, would have said something like 'it wasn't your fault', but that would have only made Edward angry, because it was his fault, and Maes knew him to well to argue with that. It was in Ed's nature to blame himself, and so Maes didn't give him the opportunity.

Edward couldn't think of anything to say in response, so he said nothing.

"Ed, if it makes you feel any better, I'm gonna visit you as much as I can." Maes said, and Ed looked back up at him.

"You will?"

"You betcha." Hughes' spontaneous smile was contagious, and Ed found himself smiling too. "And not just me. Al will probably come for sleepovers, too, and Elicia. You won't be alone there, Ed. Not if I have any say in it!"

Edward felt tears form in his eyes, and he closed his eyelids for a moment, willing them away. When he opened his eyes again, all he said was, "Thanks, Maes."

"You're welcome, Ed."

An hour later, he was leaving. The doctors had asked him about a million questions, most of them repeated over and over again, but finally he was out. The first thing they did was go home. As they entered through the apartment door, Edward took everything in. It could well be the last time he was allowed to visit. He took in the ornaments and the colour of the walls, the shape of the rooms and everything else possible.

When Al and Elicia greeted him, wrapping their arms around his waist, he pulled them in, and held them tight. Despite what Hughes said, he was going to miss them sorely. He was going to miss seeing them everyday.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He did his best to put it off, but eventually Maes had to gently nudge Ed to go pack his things. As soon as he did, Ed's mood dropped from sad to downright hostile, and Maes wished he didn't have to make Ed go like that. He went into Ed's room with him to help him gather his things, and he tried to talk to Ed, but the boy seemed to have lost his ability to speak to Maes, so he left it alone. They gathered Edward's things in silence, and Maes could practically feel it suffocating the both of them.

He didn't want Ed to leave. He had done everything in his power to convince the Fuhrer to let him stay here, but even after everything he had done, he had still only won the child a week, and now it was gone. Edward had to live with Roy Mustang from now until...well, until the Fuhrer said otherwise. And while Maes loved Roy had would trust him with his life, he wasn't sure he trusted him with Ed's.

Mustang would never do anything that would put Ed's life in danger, he knew that much. But he wasn't sure if Mustang would be able to handle Ed's mood swings and his fiery temper. Mustang had never been a father, and subconsciously, Maes thought that was a good thing. He didn't think Roy had the temperament for it. Roy had never been one to be patient with children. But, there was nothing he could do about it, so he just had to pray that Roy would leave Ed alone and Ed wouldn't lose his temper.

It took them half an hour, but eventually, they managed to collect all of Ed's stuff. Not that there was a whole lot of it, it was just that most of it was stuff that Al and Elicia had made for Ed, and a few gifts from Gracia and himself. Ed didn't have many clothes, so that took only a few minutes. Once they were done, Ed sat down on his bed, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. Maes watched on as the boys shoulders began to shake. He sat down beside him and wrapped his arm around Ed, pulling him close.

"It'll be alright," he said softly. "I promise."

Ed leaned into the embrace, and Maes smiled down at him sadly. The boy had been through so much in his short life, especially recently. He needed to be here, where he knew he could relax. Where he didn't need to constantly keep up his guard. But he couldn't be. All because the Fuhrer had decided that Maes couldn't be trusted to keep an eye on him. From a political point of view, he could see how that made sense, but still, that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Come on, kiddo, can't put it off forever." He said, gently. Ed nodded and got to his feet, taking a deep breath. The young boy stretched his lips into an attempt at a smile and grabbed his suitcase.

"Okay." He murmured. "Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, Hughes' car pulled in beside Mustang's house, which was on the outskirts of Central City. Mustang said he bought it because he liked the peace that came with being outside of the hustle bustle, and Maes had to admit, he had a point. If there was anywhere Ed might be able to get a peaceful night's sleep, it was here. No traffic, no loud drunks screaming at each other. All in all, it was a really nice spot. If Maes ever got a promotion, he decided he'd spend the extra money and get his own place out here, a nice big house for his kids.

"Wow, this place looks..." Ed started.

"Nice?" He prompted. Edward thought for a moment, and then nodded in agreement.

"Well, you gonna take a look inside?"

"...yeah...I guess so." Heaving his suitcase out of the backseat of the car, Ed swung it over his shoulder and timidly walked up the stone path that cut through the green grass, leading up to the big white, two storey house. He hesitated at the front door, and looked back at Hughes, who was still at the car. Twisting the key in the lock, he nodded up to Ed and walked towards him as Ed knocked on the door.

Maes heard footsteps, and a few moments later, Roy opened the door, actually looking very sober, which made Maes sigh in relief. Roy had promised him he would be, but Maes hadn't been sure if he'd keep good on it or not. "Hey, Maes. Ed." Roy nodded to both of them and Maes grinned.

"Hiya, Roy!" He grabbed his wallet from his pocket and proceeded to unravel a long line of photos. "Check out these pictures I took of Elicia and Al! Aren't they adorable!" For a split second he worried that Ed might be upset that he wasn't in any of the pictures, but then Maes remembered that since he'd been rescued from the underground laboratory, he'd hated pictures being taken of him, which was understandable, considering...

He shoved the photos in Roy's face and the man stumbled backwards in an attempt to avoid the barrage of cute photographs. Hughes roared with laughter at the irritated expression his best friend wore, and he tucked the photos safely away.

"So, uh..." Roy stumbled over his words, and Maes grinned. "Come in, I guess." He opened up the door and gestured for them to come in, and Maes took the invitation. A slight glance back at Ed told him that the boy was following, albeit nervously, and so they both entered Roy Mustang's home.

The inside was really nice, considering Roy didn't have any outside influence in how he decorated his interior. The walls were painted a light beige colour, with framed paintings scattered about. One of the paintings was of a younger Madame Christmas, with an even younger woman slung under her arm. The woman had her eyes closed in the painting, but her hair was jet black, just like Madame Christmas'. Roy had never given Maes the story on this painting, but Maes had always assumed that the younger woman was Christmas' sister.

The lounge room had a few green couches, which, admittedly, didn't really much the colour scheme, but at least he HAD couches. The carpet was plush, and Maes knew how soft it felt under bare feet.

"Uh, Ed?" Mustang asked, and if Maes wasn't mistaken, his best friend's voice sounded a little...unsure. "You, uh...can I, uh, show you to your room?" Maes grin dropped, remembering the conversation he'd had with Roy when he was here last.

Ed looked up at him, unsure himself, and Maes gave him a nod, encouraging him to let Roy show him where to go. He saw Ed take in a deep breath before nodding back, moving to stand by Mustang. The older man bit his lip and then lead Edward upstairs, and Maes sighed, sitting down on the couch. His heart hurt, thinking about how he was practically abandoning his son here. He knew he didn't have a choice, but, still...he felt like he should be doing more to keep Ed under his protection. He still didn't trust Mustang to look after the kid the way he needed looking after. Ed would never admit it, probably not even to himself, but...damn, he was messed up! After all the shit he'd gone through in his short thirteen years of life, he had earned the right to be.

Maes shook his head, putting his face in his palms. Ed needed him, he needed him to wake him up from his nightmares at ungodly hours of the morning, he needed him to hold him close when he woke, to reassure him the he was safe, that he wasn't still in the places that his dreams took him. Edward needed Maes there to talk to, because somehow, in this whole world, Maes had become the only person the child could talk to. Not even his brother...

He was shook from his misery from the ringing of Roy's phone.

Sighing, he made his way to the mount on the wall and picked up the hand-piece. "Mustang residence." He said. "Maes Hughes speaking."

"Lieutenant Colonel!" Riza Hawkeye's desperate voice echoed through the receiver. "I need to speak to Mustang right away!"

"Mustang's with Ed. Hawkeye, what's wrong?"

"It's...some new evidence has come up. Please, can you meet me at Mustang's office?" Her voice...Maes didn't think he could remember a time when she sounded this afraid.

"I'll be right there." He said, and hung up the phone. Looking up to the staircase, he could hear Mustang and Ed talking. He made his decision quickly. He grabbed a pen and a stray piece of paper and hurriedly scrawled a note to Ed and Mustang, signed it, and left it on the kitchen the kitchen table for them to find.

He ran out of the house, unlocked his car and jumped in. He brought the engine to life and sped away, going as fast as he could without breaking the speed limit, and within a few minutes he was at Central Headquarters. He ran to Mustang's office as fast as his feet would carry him, and actually crashed into the door. The door apparently could take his weight and swung open, and he quite literally crashed through into the outer office.

He fell on his face.

"Not quite the entrance I was hoping for." He mumbled, getting to his feet and rubbing his aching head. He looked up to see all of Mustang's team staring at him, a mixture of shock and amusement on their faces. "Not a word. Not one." He said, and Fuery clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

"Lieutenant Colonel." Hawkeye cleared her throat, and Maes remembered why he was there. He noted that Fuery went from borderline laughter to a frightening intensity. And that's how he knew, more than anything, something was seriously, seriously, wrong.

"What's happening?" He asked, all traces of humour gone.

"Do you remember when I gave one of the photographs from Ed's...file...to an artist friend of mine to see if she could bring out who it was?" Hawkeye asked.

"Vaguely."

"Well, I just got the pictures back." She reached into the pocket of her uniform and pulled out two things, one of which Maes recognized as the blurry photograph from the file. The second was a pencil drawing.

She handed him both, and when he got a good look at the pencil drawing, he wanted to throw up.

It was...

It was Hakuro.

"What the fuck?" He whispered. He looked up to Hawkeye, and he could feel how desperate he probably looked. "Are you sure? Is your friend...is she absolutely positive that this is really the guy in the picture?"

"She's certain." Riza said, her eyes filled with anger.

After a few moments of suppressing his blinding rage, he breathed, "This is never going to hold up in a court case. You know that, right?"

"I know." She responded.

"So now we know who it is, we have to find more evidence that's gonna prove it to a judge." Havoc said, and, Maes had to admit, he'd completely forgotten that the rest of the team was even there.

"Yeah." He murmured, thinking. "But still, if we can just find something, anything, we might be able to at least get him locked up for a few days until we can find some solid proof that he was there. And once we find that, we can really get him locked up. Just being there is a violation of a ton of human rights acts."

"Havoc! Falman!" Hawkeye called the second lieutenant and warrant officer to attention. "Dig around. Search for anybody who knew where Hakuro might have been during the time Edward was missing. If he was out of anybody's sights for even a moment, I want to know about it."

"Yes, sir!" Both men chorused, and were gone within seconds.

"Fuery."

"Yes, sir?" The young officer asked a little timidly.

"Question the phone operators who were working during the time Ed was gone, every one of them. Anybody who connected any of Hakuro's calls needs to be brought in and questioned. We need to know what he was talking about."

"Yessir!" Fuery left the office.

"Lieutenant Breda. I want you to question all staff working under General Hakuro, but do it discreetly. It is of the utmost importance they don't relay back to the General that we're onto him. Understood?" Hawkeye asked.

"Crystal clear." Breda saluted, grabbed something from his desk, and departed, leaving the Lieutenant and the Lieutenant Colonel alone in Mustang's office.

"Well, Lieutenant? What do you want me to do?" Maes asked, and Hawkeye blinked. She had seemed to be in somewhat of a trance whilst she was giving her Colonel's staff orders, and now that they were alone, she appeared to have fallen out of it. For a split second, surprise and something bordering on confusion crossed her face before being quickly disguised.

"I believe I should be asking you that question, Lieutenant Colonel." She said. Of course, she was below him in rank. She was unused to being asked for orders from someone above her.

"You're in charge of this one, Hawkeye." He said, looking her in the eye. She may not show it often, but he knew the woman had a weakness for Ed. She loved the boy like he was the younger brother she'd never had, and she was the overprotective older sister. She needed to do something to help him, or she was going to drive herself insane. Maes could see that, all just looking at the skillfully masked desperation in her eyes. The woman would make a good actress, she could hide almost everything from her face, but the one thing she couldn't hide was the emotion in her eyes.

And what he saw in her eyes then, after he told her that she was the one leading the investigation, well...it was just short of relief. She didn't say it, not out loud, but her eyes did. 'Thank you', they said.

'You're welcome', he said back, silently.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cause you know it's over  
> growin' colder  
> I need something  
> leave me next to nothing
> 
> all we ever wanted  
> I need something  
> leave me next to nothing
> 
> next to nothing
> 
> ~Next To Nothing (Breaking Benjamin)

Mustang led Edward up to his new room, and Edward had to clench his fists to keep from shaking. He had his suspicions as to why Maes stayed on the ground floor and left Mustang and Ed alone, but still, being away from Maes made him nervous in a way he would never otherwise admit, at least out loud, anyway. He didn't like being alone with Mustang. Despite the fact that he had accepted that Mustang's little beatings were a thing of the past and they'd both reconciled.

Mustang opened a door to his left and gestured for Edward to enter, and Ed did so silently, not knowing what to say. He tried for a smile as Mustang held the door for him, but he wasn't sure if he'd actually managed any more than a grimace.

The room was pretty average; on the wall to his left there was a wooden six-shelf dresser, a desk and chair, and a full length mirror. On the right wall was a decently painted landscape of a sunset over a hill, with three chestnut horses grazing at the top. At the back wall in the center was a double bed with plain blue bed-sheets, and a heavy and warm looking doona* on the top. The walls were painted a half decent sky-blue colour, which was a nice change from the rest of the beige house. All in all, the room didn't look overly bad.

At least, not until he noticed the window.

He sucked in a breath that whistled through his nostrils as his eyes drank in the details of it. It was a simple window with a latch and a pullover curtain, but that wasn't what had caught his attention; what had caught it lay behind the glass. Welded into the outside wall, a set of steel bars blocked the window. Even if he had tried to fit through, which he doubted he would (he wasn't small, dammit, he couldn't fit through that!), the principle of it was there...Mustang didn't want him escaping. That mulled over in his head for a few moments before another terrifying thought entered his head.

People only block your escape from something worth escaping from.

His right hand began to shake. What was going to happen to him here that was so terrible that the Colonel needed to put freaking BARS on the window to stop him from leaving? What was going to be so bad about his stay here that he even needed to consider it?

A few moments passed in silence and Ed jumped when Mustang spoke.

"I didn't want to Ed." He said, and Edward didn't need to ask. "I didn't want to put them there."

"...Then why did you?" He asked quietly, an edge to his voice in the beginning that didn't make it to the end.

"I had no choice, Edward. If I didn't put them there then the military would think that I wasn't taking my duties seriously, and you'd be taken from my care and put into someone else's. Someone like Hakuro". Ed had to force himself not to flinch at the name, and looked down at the ground.

"Yeah, sure..." He said softly. Nothing was said for a few seconds until the sound of a phone ringing pierced the silence. Ed was about to open his mouth again to ask whether or not Mustang planned on getting it when the ringing stopped, and Maes' voice could be heard answering it. He relaxed slightly. He knew Maes wasn't going to leave him here alone, but still, it was reassuring to hear his voice and know that he was still there.

"Ed, I promise, that's the only reason they're there." Mustang said, and Ed closed his eyes, still facing away. He felt tears beginning to prickle at his eyes and blinked them away furiously. What the Hell, Edward? You're not gonna fucking cry here are you? Goddammit. Doing his best to pull himself together, he took a few quiet steps over to the bed and sat down atop the blankets. The mattress folded slightly beneath his weight, and he looked up.

"Seems comfy enough." He said, and wanted to slap himself at how pathetic his voice sounded.

"Yeah, I thought it might be. Figured you might as well be comfortable while you're here." The Colonel said, and Ed was kind of surprised that his voice was so soft. He didn't recall a time where he'd ever even heard the Colonel speaking like that before. It was a nice change from the constant yelling.

The next few moments passed in not-quite-so-comfortable silence before the sound of the front door slamming caused them both to jump. Within seconds Ed was on his feet and at that same time he heard the engine on Maes' car start up. "No!" Ed yelled, panicked, and he jumped to the window, pressing his hands against the glass as he watched the Hughes car speed off onto the street. "No, Maes!" He shouted, but nothing happened.

Panic was rising in his throat and he felt like he couldn't take in enough air. He began to hyperventilate, staring out the window like it might somehow bring Maes back to him. But it didn't. The car raced around the corner and Ed sank to his knees, staring at the sky-blue wall as he struggled to breathe. His whole body was shaking and he could hear Mustang behind him, shouting, and then when Ed flinched at the noise his voice became softer, almost gentle. It did nothing to bring down Ed's panic.

Why did he leave? Why did he leave? His mind repeated the question over and over and yet produced no answer for him. Why did he leave? Why did he leave me here? What did I do wrong? Why did he leave me here?

He felt tears leak down his cheeks and burn his skin, but it still took a full minute for him to register that he was crying. Once he did, he became suddenly hyper-aware of the fact the Mustang was right behind him. Ed forced himself to remember how to get the most amount of oxygen into his lungs. If he could just do that he would be able to calm down. He pursed his and sucked in air like a funnel until his lungs couldn't hold anymore, and then he let it go. Rinse, repeat. Breathe in, breathe out.

Once he had successfully calmed down, he took in another deep breath, just to be sure, before turning around to face Mustang. He immediately regretted it. The elder's face was full of worry and concern and it made Ed want to hide under a blanket. He hated it wen people were 'concerned' about him. He hated making other people worry about him.

"Ed, are you-"

"I'm fine!" Edward snapped before Mustang could even ask the question.

"...alright." Mustang didn't look like he believed him, but he didn't do anymore prying than that, so that was good enough for Ed for the moment.

After a good minute of heavy silence, Edward asked in a clipped tone, "Why did he leave?"

"I don't know-"

"Bullshit!" Ed screamed. "You sent him away, didn't you!"

"Edward, you know I wouldn't-"

"Shut up! Just shut! Up!" He shoved his hands into Mustang's chest, pushing the older man backwards. Mustang gawked at him. "Get out! Leave me alone!" He shouted. Mustang went to say something and stopped himself before nodding.

"Fine." He said. "Let me know when you're ready to be civil again." Mustang walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind him, and Edward collapsed back onto the bed, closing his eyes and running his hand over his face. His shoulders were shaking. He curled into a ball, wrapping his arms around his knees and doing his best to hold back the sobs that threatened to wrack his body. Maes had left him, left him when he'd promised he wouldn't, and now he was alone in a strange house he didn't know with Roy Mustang, a man he couldn't stand, and oh God he'd just shoved him. Mustang would be furious once he realised that his inferior had had the nerve to actually shove him. God, once the older man came to his senses Ed was going to be in for a world of hurt, he just knew it.

He waited, huddled on the bed, thinking about how everything was spiraling down around him, and how he was powerless to stop any of it. He was so sick of this, so sick of being powerless. He had thought that joining the military would help him, make him stronger and take away this feeling of hopelessness that had been plaguing him since the failed Transmutation, and for a while, it seemed to.

But God, that had been short-lived.

Now he felt helpless, equal to if not more so than when he had been underground, having his body torn and changed and morphed into something inhuman. At least then he had known that eventually someone might save him. But now, it was like every time he stood back up something colossal would shove him down again. And he was finding it harder and harder each time to get back up. He wandered what would be the next big thing after this one, and if he would be able to get back on his feet one last time. He could barely see himself getting up after this.

After an immeasurable amount of time, he heard footsteps creaking the staircase, and he quietly slipped from the bed and pressed himself into the corner of the room. At least this way he couldn't be a coward and back away - there was nowhere to go. That thought was both humiliating and comforting at the same time.

A knock sounded at his door, and Mustang's voice: "Edward, may I come in?" Edward didn't respond. Instead, he waited. Would Mustang wait for his permission before entering, or would he just come in anyway? "Ed, I...I'm coming in now. Is that okay?"

Well, Ed supposed it was better than just shoving his way in.

"Ed, I'm sorry." Mustang said upon his entrance. Ed's hand began to shake. What was he sorry about? Was he apologizing in advance for the beating he was about to dish out? Ed arched his back into the corner and held his breath. "I didn't know Maes was going to leave. I thought he'd want to stay with you."

Ed clenched his fists. So this was how he was going to play it.

"That's not funny, Mustang." He whispered. "Taunting me like that, it's not funny." Mustang opened his mouth in mock confusion, but Ed didn't stop. "You thought he'd want to stay? Yeah, so did I. You don't need to rub it in my face."

"Edward, I didn't mean it like that-"

"Sure you didn't." He paused for a moment. "Well, if you're gonna do it, would you just hurry up already?"

"Do...what?"

"Like you don't know." He turned his head to the side and gripped his left arm in his right hand.

It seemed to take Mustang a moment, but soon realisation dawned on his face and he stuttered. "I- I Fullmetal I'm not-"

"Don't call me that!" Edward snapped, and Mustang recoiled, even though he was on the other side of the room.

"What?" Mustang sounded confused, and Ed turned to face him.

"In two months, my contract with the military will have ended. I won't be renewing it." He said.

"But why not?"

"Why would I need to?" Ed yelled, stepping forward. "I don't need the military anymore. Al's body is back to normal, I have two flesh limbs! I've achieved my goal, dammit. I don't need the military libraries anymore so therefore, I no longer need the military! That too hard for you, Colonel Bastard?" His breath was coming in short bursts by the time he had finished his mini-monologue, and he could feel his blood pumping in his head. A flash of anger and denial crossed Mustang's eyes and Ed took a step back, suddenly and irrationally afraid. Mustang opened his mouth and Ed expected him to yell. He didn't.

"You don't need the military anymore?" He asked quietly. "That's fine. They're more likely than not gonna screw you over soon anyway, so it makes sense to get out while you can, but still, I thought..." He trailed off, and Edward didn't dare speak until he finished. "I thought that being part of the team meant something to you."

"The...team?" Edward said stupidly, his voice almost as quiet as his superior's.

"Yes Edward, the team. My team. Fuery, Breda, Falman, Havoc, Hawkeye...and you. You, Elric, were a part of the team. I thought you knew that." Mustang sounded...sad, and Ed felt a surge of guilt course through him. He had never even thought...he'd thought that...

"I thought you were just using me." He said quietly to himself.

"What?" Mustang asked, shocked.

"I thought I was just another one of your pawns, just someone you could use as a way to earn another promotion." He said, not meeting his superior's eyes, instead focusing on the floor. "I never realised I was anything but canon fodder to you." He felt his face become wet, and he sniffed. He'd never even really thought about what he was to Mustang, because he knew that he was just something the Colonel would use. He thought he didn't care about that, but now that he did think about it he realised it hurt, it hurt that the person he had put his trust in, the person who had kept his secret and protected his little brother, didn't feel anything for him. Didn't care. It hurt that after everything they had done he was still just a tool for the older man to use.

"Dammit Ed." Mustang snapped, and he flinched, shutting his eyes. He felt Mustang's large hand grip his shoulder and he stiffened. His whole body was shaking and he wanted to hit himself for being so weak. "I'm not going to lie to you. At first that's all you were to me. That's exactly what you were."

Ed clenched his fists and tried to pull away. "I knew it." He sobbed.

"Ed, I'm not finished." Mustang didn't let go, and Ed didn't look. He couldn't. He feared that if he opened his eyes and looked into those black eyes that didn't see him as any more than cannon fodder, he would break completely. "Edward. At first, that's what you were to me. But you grew on me. On us all. I got to know you, at least, as much as you would let me know you, and I realised I liked you. And then you went missing, and you have no idea how terrified I was in those months you were gone. How terrified we all were. When we finally found you, I felt like a massive weight had been taken off my shoulders."

"But you..." Ed tried his best not to sob, but he knew he hadn't succeeded in keeping back the cry. "You treated me like shit afterward, acted like you didn't even care."

"And I'll never forgive myself for doing that to you. I was in a really dark place then, and when I found out you were hiding things from me it all turned into anger, and I took it out on you, and I should never have done that. But I promise you, that'll never, ever, happen again. You have my word." The hand on his shoulder had begun to shake. "But God Ed, don't ever think that I don't care about you, because I do. I care so much, and I hate this. I hate that you had to go through everything that you've been through, I hate that you're so afraid-"

Edward pulled away harshly, staring up at the older man. "I. Am not! Afraid!" He snarled, backing away. Mustang looked shocked and sad and angry, and Ed backed away again, his back pressing up against the corner again. He knew he looked like a cornered animal, and in a way, he was.

"Edward, I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Mustang tried to touch him again, and Ed knew it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but he shrugged away from the older man's hand, pressing even closer to the wall.

"Then what did you mean?" Ed challenged.

"I...I don't know. Can we just, try to forget I said it Ed, please? I didn't mean to upset you." Ed could tell that he was sincere about it, and he forced himself to relax.

"Yeah, I guess...it was just...a slip or words, right?"

"Yeah Ed, a slip of words. I never meant to say it." Mustang breathed a sigh of relief, and Ed sagged, slumping to the floor.

"Would you like me to leave you alone now?" Mustang asked quietly, and Ed just nodded. Mustang didn't say another word as he left the room and shut the door for the second time that day.

Ed spent the rest of the day in his room, waiting for Maes to return. He declined Mustang's offers to make him lunch, and then ate unwillingly as the colonel told him he couldn't skip dinner too. He waited for Maes to come back, but...he never did.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, fighting and trying to hide the scars.  
> I'll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye.  
> The lonely road, the one that I should try to walk alone.  
> I'll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye.
> 
> ~Here We Are (Breaking Benjamin)

Maes was so sick of this. He had pulled an all nighter to help Mustang's team collect and file all of this information, and they had pulled enough evidence to have General Hakuro taken into custody for questioning. It probably would have been a lot easier with Mustang's help, but he and Hawkeye both agreed not to call him in. He needed to keep an eye out on Ed, and he wouldn't be able to do that if they called him in. So he and the team dealt with the problem on their own.

And now, at nine o'clock in the morning, he was sitting here, in a chair opposite Hakuro, the interrogation going absolutely nowhere. Hakuro was blatantly denying all the evidence against him, and half an hour after he'd been brought in, he didn't seem likely to crack any time soon. Maes was sick of this day already. And it wasn't even lunch time yet.

"Listen here, Lieutenant Colonel, for the twentieth time, I don't know where you got all this 'evidence'," he quoted his fingers, "but I'm telling you right now, I was. Not. There when Major Elric was held captive. I've never been to the place in my life, I wasn't even part of the division that recovered Elric. I had absolutely no part in any of it and you have no right to keep me here." Hakuro insisted, and Maes resisted the urge to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Well, the people we've questioned and the times we've pulled state differently. You were seen, General, entering the scene of the crime, by multiple people, several times. And those times coincide with the dates on the photographs in the files recovered." Maes said, not for the first time. Hakuro opened his mouth to speak again when the door to the interrogation room opened and something...strange...happened.

The Fuhrer, King Bradley himself, walked in.

"So, what seems to be the trouble, Lieutenant Colonel?" He said, and Maes blinked.

"F-fuhrer Bradley!" He exclaimed stupidly, and almost slapped himself immediately after. Quickly he saluted. "May I ask what you're doing here, sir?"

"Oh, I just heard that you had the General in custody, and I wanted to know what was what." Bradley told him. Maes took a breath and began to explain all the evidence himself and Mustang's team had collected and what it all meant. Bradley didn't say a word during his explanation but once he was done, asked to see the files and and the evidence Maes had brought with him.

He spent several minutes reading it all, occasionally frowning, his eyes widening in surprise every once in a while. Maes could feel his heart racing. If the Fuhrer did what he expected him to do and defended the General, then it was all over. Everything they'd pulled together would be worthless, because in the eyes of a judge, if the Fuhrer himself disagreed with the evidence, then they would deem their case worthless and award the General benefit of the doubt.

Once again, the Fuhrer surprised him.

"Well Lieutenant Colonel, I'd say you have enough evidence to prove the General's guilt." He said, turning to face him. For a moment Maes couldn't think of what to say, instead focusing on General Hakuro's expression of mixed rage and shock, before realizing he was standing there like an idiot.

"Thank you sir." He said.

"Guards!" The Fuhrer called, and Maes almost jumped. Two guards entered the room and saluted, before Bradley continued. "Take this man to the state prison immediately. He is clearly guilty of taking part in an illegal human experimentation ring and I want him out of my sight."

"Yessir!" The two men chorused, before grabbing the General by the arms and leading him out of the room. All the while, Hakuro said nothing, maintaining a look of angry acceptance on his face. As they led the man out of the room and slammed the door closed, Hughes turned to Bradley.

"Thank you sir." He said. "If you hadn't supported my claim it would have been impossible to have him convicted."

"Don't mention it." The Fuhrer said. "That man was obviously involved. Anyone who couldn't deduce that from all the evidence you pulled together would have to be blind."

"Thank you."

"If you don't mind, Lieutenant Colonel, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Where is Colonel Mustang? This is his case after all. I'm just curious as to why you're running the show this morning."

"I decided not to inform the Colonel about this for the moment. He has the day off to look after Ed and get things settled between them, and I didn't want to disrupt that. I was planning to tell the Colonel tomorrow when he came in."

Fuhrer Bradley seemed to consider this for a moment, and Maes was starting to suspect that he was going to be reprimanded for not reporting the new evidence to his superior, but then the Fuhrer laughed, and he was struck once again by how odd the man was, and how he always seemed to do exactly the opposite of what you'd expect. "Well then that's fair enough." The semi-old man chuckled. "I expect a full report on this, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Yes sir!"

The Fuhrer nodded at him, folded his arms behind his back and left the interrogation room without another word, leaving Maes standing alone, stunned.

./././.

"Jesus Christ." Maes muttered to himself, taking off his glasses and running a hand over his face. There had been so much paperwork to do after General Hakuro was officially arrested. The man had been taken to Central Prison and had been put under strict watch. He was, after all, charged with supervision of Human Transmutation.

Tiredly, Maes got out of his car, parked under a streetlight outside his apartment building. It was almost eight o'clock, and the sun had already gone down. He had spent literally the entire day filling out paperwork and making sure it was handed in to the appropriate offices. There'd been so much of it that he'd had to do it during his lunch break as well. And then once everything had been skimmed and signed, he'd also had to write up his report on everything they'd found and how they'd found it. His entire investigation was on paper by nightfall, and his wrists were aching something fierce before he'd even been halfway done.

He locked his car and shuffled into the huge building, waving to Martha, the cleaner, as she finished up her work. Eyes drooping, he stepped into the elevator and took it up to his floor. The start and the stop made his head hurt, but he was glad to be home. When was the last time he'd been here? Two days? Three? Blinking, he pulled his key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and making sure it was safely locked again.

The lights were off and the apartment was silent, so Gracia must have already put Al and Elicia to bed.

His feet made no noise on the carpet as he slowly walked to the room he shared with his wife, stripped, and crawled into bed with her. She moaned a little in her sleep but didn't wake. Placing his glasses on the nightstand, he pulled the covers up to his neck, closed his eyes, and fell asleep instantly.

The next morning, he woke up to a strange squealing sound.

He bolted upright, his glasses on his nose within a second. The squeal let out again, and Maes relaxed when he realised it was just Elicia laughing about something.

"Sshh, you'll make Maes." He heard Alphonse say, and Maes smiled. Al was such a considerate little kid, wanting to let him sleep in. He wondered if he'd ever meet another child quite like Al again, and decided he wouldn't. Al was one of a kind. There just wasn't anyone like him. All the things he'd been through, and he still retained a good majority of his childhood innocence. And Goddamn he'd never met a child that was as smart and logical as Alphonse Elric before.

Maes smiled. Alphonse Hughes he corrected himself. Alphonse Hughes.

Adopting the youngest Elric had been potentially one of the best decisions he'd ever made. When he'd told the boys, man, their smiles could have provided the entire world with enough warmth and joy to last years. Alphonse was thrilled that he'd finally have a real family, and Edward was just as thrilled, if not more so, that his brother would get to experience growing up like a regular kid.

It hadn't been until later, when he was out of Al's range, that Ed had admitted that he wished more than anything it could have been a package deal.

And God, Maes did too. He would have given anything to be able to adopt Edward as well, but the Fuhrer flatly refused it. Edward was a State Alchemist and a human-chimera. And as both of these things he belonged solely to the state, and, more specifically, to Bradley himself. Only the Fuhrer had a say in what happened to the boy, and the most leniency he would allow was to assign his commanding officer the duty of guarding him. Major Elric should be lucky that I'm not sending him to a lab to be dissected. Bradley had said, a strange gleam in his green eye. Be thankful I'm allowing this much.

Maes stared at the carpet for a minute, his hand shaking. The Fuhrer was so strange. He was harsh and cold and militaristic, but he could also be laid-back and charismatic and aloof. It was like the man had two sides of himself, and it left everyone in his wake in a constant daze.

Sighing, he stood up and got dressed. It had been two days since he'd seen Ed. The kid was probably freaking out, and, knowing Ed, the poor kid (despite knowing otherwise) would be thinking Maes had abandoned him. A pang of guilt hit him and the thought, but he hadn't been able to help it. So much new information about Ed's case had practically been thrown at him overnight, and he wanted it all memorised before any of it went missing.

But God, how was Maes going to tell Edward that the man he'd been put under for his own protection, the man who had beaten and abused him, had been part of Ed's de-humanization all along. Been part of the organised group that had Edward raped for the sake of 'science'. Edward would likely pull into himself when he found out, and Maes couldn't stand to see that happen again. He'd just gotten him to learn to trust him, to trust others, but this news could very well break him.

But he had to tell him. He couldn't just keep something like that from Ed. That would be worse.

He dragged himself to the kitchen, a glance at the clock revealing it was well past ten. Wow, he had slept in. It was a good thing he had today off. He gave Gracia and the kids a good-morning kiss each, ate breakfast and headed out. He got in his car and drove straight to the Mustang residence. He didn't bother knocking on the door when he arrived. He waltzed straight in and hung his jacket on the rack.

"Anybody home?" He called loudly. He heard a thump from upstairs, and then loud, fast footsteps coming down the staircase.

"Maes!" Edward practically sobbed, jumping down the last two steps and launching himself onto Maes, wrapping his arms around him like wire. Maes was almost knocked back by the force of it, but he steadied himself, curling his own arms around the smaller boy, whose shoulders were now shaking.

"I thought you'd" Ed hiccuped. "Left me." He finished.

"I'm so sorry kiddo." Maes said, and he hoped Ed could hear his regret. "Something huge came up and I haven't had any spare time until this morning." He heard Mustang enter the room, but he paid the other man no attention.

"W-what information?" Ed asked, looking up at Maes with red rimmed eyes, tears threatening to fall.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" Ed nodded, letting go of Maes and stepping back. Maes ruffled his hair.

"So how's it been? Are you enjoying living in the Mustang residence?" He joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not one bit." Ed joked back, grinning.

After that he actually acknowledged the owner of the house, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, he decided to stop putting off the inevitable, and told them all he'd learned over the past few days. Both Ed and Mustang handled the news similarly, with grim expressions and clenched fists. The only difference between the two was that Ed's shoulders were shaking slightly.

"Well," Mustang said at last, breaking the tense silence, "At least everything's over and done with, at least as far as Hakuro is concerned. With the Fuhrer on our side there's no way any judge - or jury - is going to deny the evidence you've managed to collect." Maes could hear the unspoken 'thank you' in his friend's exhausted tone. Mustang was beat, whether it was from the news he'd just received or from spending the past few days practically locked in a house with Edward Elric, Maes didn't know.

Speaking of Edward, Maes noticed something different about the boy. Rather than the outlandish red coat and tight leather he usually bore, today he was wearing a simple red long-sleeve shirt and a pair of faded grey jeans. His hands weren't gloved, either, which was strange for Ed. He used to wear them because of the auto-mail he sported, but since he'd been Transmuted with those foreign limbs, he wore the gloves to try and hide them from himself. Perhaps Ed had forgotten to put them on...

He felt Mustang's dining room table shift just moments before Ed stood up, his chair squeaking at the movement, and excused himself, walking out of the room. He heard Ed's heavy footsteps make their way up the staircase and some moments later, a door - presumably his - slam shut. A heavy thump told him Ed had dropped to the ground.

"Goddamn." He muttered under his breath. "Poor kid just can't catch a break."

"No, it seems he can't." Mustang responded, his voice low.

They stayed there, neither one of them uttering a single word, for the rest of the hour, and when Maes decided that Ed's 'alone time' was sufficiently over, he stood up and left Mustang to whatever thoughts were running around in his head.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the means, why wait?  
> There's no reason to anticipate  
> You're standing on the edge but it may break.  
> So fall in to the void and spin away.
> 
> ~The Means (The Getaway Plan)

Several weeks passed since Edward moved in with Mustang, and he had to admit, it wasn't as completely, life alteringly horrible as he'd expected it to be. The man had a decent routine when it came to preparing for work, much to Ed's surprise, and was actually very organised. Ed picked up on said routine quite quickly, and he learned that on the few occasions when Mustang was running late it was because he'd had a bad night.

Edward didn't judge him for it. He could relate.

The only problem he was even having was the coughing had started again.

He'd thought it a blessing a few weeks ago, when seemingly out of nowhere the urge to cough up his lungs suddenly ceased. It was like God was finally giving him a break, but out of the blue this morning it had started again, and it had come back with a vengeance. He spent a good ten minutes tearing his throat apart, and the best Mustang could do for him was put a towel underneath him so he didn't get any more blood all over the carpet of his room. Ed had noticed between his coughs of death that Mustang had appeared at some point, noticed the blood on the floor, and fetched a towel for him. Mustang later explained that he had heard the coughing fit from downstairs and had come up to help, but had drawn a blank as to exactly how to help. Edward had told him - well, more like made noises that kind of sounded like words - that it was alright, but he still sensed a bit of discomfort from his caretaker.

After he was done expelling his lungs from his body, Edward continued to go about his daily routine, vaguely noticing that Mustang had been completely shirtless the entire time. Enter: Edward's turn to be uncomfortable.

While Edward was always aware that Mustang was pretty fit, he'd never realised that the guy actually had abs. Abs. How the Hell does a guy who spent the entire day sitting at a desk signing paperwork get abs? It made no sense! The guy even had some muscle on his arms. What the Hell? Edward hadn't seen Mustang do a single push-up the entire time he'd lived with him. Honestly, the guy would have to do his exercises in the bathroom to keep that up without Ed knowing.

Edward might have actually turned red when Mustang noticed he was oggling, and was spared any further embarrassment when the older man left and returned a minute later with a shirt.

Later that morning, when they arrived in at the office, they found Hughes waiting to greet them.

"Heya, Roy-boy! Ed! How's it going?"

"Absolutely nothing has happened since we last spoke yesterday, Hughes." Ed responded. Roy frowned for a moment, but, thankfully, decided to keep his mouth shut. Ed didn't want Maes to know he'd started coughing again, not just yet. If the man thought he was getting better, let him keep thinking it. He had no desire to stress Hughes out today.

"Well, Ed, I've got some news. You remember telling me about that guy from a few weeks back, the one that could shape-shift?" Hughes asked him.

"Yeah, I remember." Ed said. "What about him?"

"You said he was a Homunculus, right? Well, I think I've figured out how he ticks." Ed exhaled. This was fantastic. If he knew how the Homunculus actually functioned, he might be able to figure out a way to beat it. After all, everything had some sort of weak spot, and the Homunculi should be the same.

"I'm sorry, excuse me for interrupting, sirs," Hawkeye said, rising from her office desk, "but could somebody please explain to me exactly what a Homunculus is."

"I'm no alchemist, I'll let you take over this one, Ed." Hughes said, and Ed launched into an explanation consisting of all he knew about Homunculi, how they were made, how their various powers work, and just any other random info he could think of.

"The Homunculi that had me captured, they said their names were Lust and Envy." He told them. "Envy was the shapeshifter, but I don't know what Lust can do, she never demonstrated any of her abilities. From the way they were talking, I'm pretty sure there's more than just the two of them." He heard a small breath leave Hawkeye's lips, and he knew she was calculating the odds of fighting against the two of them. Judging by her expression, she didn't come to a very comforting conclusion.

"They were also talking about another person. They called him 'Father'. I'm assuming that means this guy's the alchemist who created them. When I escaped, I was supposed to be waiting for Father to come and visit me in the cozy little cell of mine." He suppressed a shudder at the memory. He'd never gotten around to telling Maes about the fact that the Homunculi had been the ones to orchestrate his capture and Transmutation into...what he was now. He had been trying to put it off as long as possible, but, maybe he should just do it now...

"There's one other thing." He said quietly, looking away and gripping his right arm in his left hand. "The Homunculi, they're," He sucked in a shuddering breath. "They're the ones who were behind my capture last year." An audible gasp from each of the room's occupants. There was a pause, and in that moment of silence a part of him was afraid that the man standing beside him was going to slap him or shout at him or...something,for withholding that kind of information, but all that happened Maes putting a hand behind his shoulder and steering him out of the room.

When they were away - at least relatively - from prying ears, Maes sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall, and Ed followed suit. For a few moments they sat in silence, and in those few moments Ed got sick of waiting for Maes to speak, so he spoke first. "Just do it." He said, and he could hear the dejected tone in his voice.

"What exactly am I doing?" The older man asked him.

"I don't know. Scream, shout at me, tell me off, something!"

"Ed, I'm not going to do any of that."

"Why not? I hid this from you. I've known for weeks and I never told you about it." He sucked in a breath and felt his throat start to itch. "You're telling me you don't care? That it doesn't bother you that I-"

Maes stuck his hand out, a gesture for Ed to stop talking. He did. Maes took in a breath through his nose and began to speak.

"Edward." He said. "I'm not going to yell at you, or shout or scream. I'm not going to tell you off. I can tell that you're upset with yourself enough already, so there's no point in me making it any worse. And yes, it does bother me that you waited so long to tell me, but..." Hughes looked over to Ed, and they made eye contact. There were about a dozen different emotions flickering through his moss-green eyes. "But it's not the first time you've hid things from me, and I doubt it'll be the last."

Ed looked down then, hiding his face in shame. Guilt ate at him, clawing it's way down into his stomach until he felt sick. Even without the words being said, he could hear the hidden message there. 'Please, don't keep secrets from me.' He thought about the itch in his throat. Before he could change his mind, he opened his mouth to tell Maes about it.

But all that came out was a hacking cough that sent him sprawling to his knees, one hand on the floor in some attempt to hold himself balanced, the other at his mouth, trying to catch the blood. Within seconds the skin of his hand had turned red and warm and sticky. His vision went a fuzzy white colour as he struggled to draw breath. He flinched when he felt a hand touch his back, but then fingers began to stroke soothing circles over the material of his shirt, and he realised, though vaguely, that it was Maes, helping him, easing the cough back. Within about twenty seconds the cough was gone, and Maes was helping him sit up. A cloth was pressed into his hands and he did his best to wipe away the blood with it.

He looked up, about to thank Maes for his assistance, but the look on his face stopped him cold. There was anger there, the hurt kind of anger a person felt when they were lied to, and Edward knew, without words, that he'd screwed up again.

"You've started coughing again." Maes said. Ed tried to form words, but nothing left his mouth. He ducked his head, hiding behind his bangs.

"Edward -"

"I'm sorry, I -"

"Don't." Maes snapped, a finality to his tone. "Just...don't. I don't need to hear it." Maes stood, and, without another word, walked away, opening the door to Mustang's office and slamming it shut behind him.

Ed was left sitting on the floor, shoulders shaking from a mixture of rage and self-loathing. Rage at himself and at Maes. At himself for not telling Maes as soon as he'd seen him about the Homunculi, as soon as he'd started coughing. And rage at Maes for not listening. For not waiting for him to explain that it'd only started this morning! If he hadn't jumped to conclusions so fast and gotten so angry then Ed wouldn't be sitting here feeling like a piece of dog shit stuck in a puddle.

DAMMIT! He would not just sit here, on the verge of tears. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist, for God's sake, he would not just sit here and cry like a baby!

He hauled himself to his feet and began to walk out of the building. He was going to put his rage to good use, dammit. He was going to find that Homunculus and fight it until he figured out it's weak points. He didn't care that Maes thought he knew about how that bastard Envy ticked, Ed was just going to have to find out by himself.

That's how he'd always done things, anyway.

He didn't look back as he left the premises of Central Headquarters, didn't look back as he walked through the streets. He had no idea how he was going to lure Envy out, but he was damn sure he wasn't going to lose this time. Not all his wounds were completely healed. His knuckles still ached every now and then thanks to breaking them on Envy's steel abs, and his ribs hurt when he lay on them at night, but other than that he was fine. Completely fine.

And he was ready to kick some ass.

At some point it occurred to him that Mustang was probably going to be in serious trouble if the brass found out Ed had been wandering around by himself, but that was fine. Mustang could deal with it. Right now he had to focus.

He decided to start by paying a visit to the drainage lid where he had escaped from Envy weeks ago. He didn't want to go back down there, but if it was the only way to find the Homunculi then that was the only entrance he knew of. When he got there, he was lucky enough that this particular street was rarely used for traffic, in favour of the street parallel, which passed through a main street of cafes and small businesses. This one had nothing but large building that used to be a pharmaceutical warehouse that was sold and never bought. The building had been standing there for years, completely unused, and it ruined the look of the street. Over time the other small shops around it sold off too, and now the street was practically empty, with the exception of a phone booth at the corner.

Lucky him.

He walked into the middle of the road, crouching down to the drainage lid and running his fingers over the alchemy marks he had put there when he melted the metal and sealed it closed. Clapping his hands, he returned the lid to it's natural form, and pulled it open, peering into the gloom below.

As the light fell in and his eyes adjusted, he could make out the shape of the knife he'd used to stab Envy in the eye, lying at the bottom of the ladder amidst a dark rusty stain that he assumed was Envy's blood. Or his own. Or perhaps both.

A shudder passed through him, and he decided to make going back into that place a last resort. Damn, it was creepy down there.

So then, if he wasn't going down, he was just going to have to find a way to lure Envy back up here. He looked around, and noticed that despite the low traffic this street got, there were still a reasonable amount of people around, most of them probably wondering what the Hell he was doing kneeling in the middle of the road. A thought occurred to him. Last time, Envy had waited until Ed was out of the public eye before confronting him, and when Ed had returned to the crowd, the homunculus had ceased his chase.

And then there was this Father guy Ed was supposed to 'meet'. He doubted someone who seemed so important to the likes of homunculi would bother with that if Ed wasn't important to him for whatever reason, so it was likely that the man still had Envy (or one of the others) watching him, waiting for the right moment to capture him again. If Ed got away from the crowd, one of them might show up again.

So he stood up, walked off the road and headed in a random direction. He continued to walk like that for a while, taking random turns and seeing where he ended up.

After a few blocks of this, he noticed he was being followed.

He didn't look directly, but the same feminine figure with the modest purple jacket and dull blue headscarf he'd noticed two blocks ago was still in his line of sight. Just to test, he took the next right turn, and slowed his pace. A few moments later, she took the turn too. He took three more right turns, and, sure enough, the woman was there, a few seconds behind him each time. He was now back at the same street he'd started on, and the woman had not deviated from his path.

He came across a grove of trees and, when he was pretty sure no one was looking, he slipped quietly into them, the rustle of leaves lost in the wind. After passing several trees he came across a clearing similar to the one he'd first fought Envy in. He crossed it to the other end and waited, silently clapping his hands in preparation for a potential battle.

Less than half a minute later, the woman emerged from the trees.

"Am I really so interesting that a pretty lady like you has to follow me in a circle?" He asked.

"Well, my father certainly seems so." Came the sultry voice of the Homunculus Lust. She took off her jacket and removed her headscarf, revealing both her long black hair and her huge...tracts of land.

But most importantly, her red tattoo. It was the same one Envy had on his left thigh. Now that he could make it out clearly, he could see that it was the insignia of the Ouroborus, the snake that ate it's own tail. Inside the circle the snake created was a star. He remembered reading about Homunculi as a child, remembered reading that those of flesh and mind who have been created through alchemy shall be born branded. The Ouroboras must have been that brand, then. Interesting.

"What's your name again? Lust? Well, I can see why." Her black dress was low (low) cut, sleeveless and very form fitting, ending just below her knees. She wore high heel boots that disappeared underneath the dress, and long gloves that clung to her biceps. Red lines ending in little circular nodes ran down the length of both gloves and ended on her hands. They were the same red colour as the Ouroboras tattoo in the center of her chest (just above her cleavage). Lust grinned at him, wide and feral, and and shiver went down Ed's spine.

"You know, if you're trying to avoid being captured, you're not going about it very well, are you?" She was trying to learn why Ed had lured her here, because they both knew that was exactly what he'd done. Well, Ed supposed he could play her game, just for a little while at least.

"Really? I thought I'd done a pretty stand up job." He grinned back, taunting her. "It's been weeks and you're only just catching up to me now. What does that say about you and your weird cross-dressing buddy?"

"Piece of advice. Don't say that to Envy's face. He might get angry." Lust said.

"Speaking of, where is he?" Lust's grin grew even wider, and Ed wondered if he really wanted to know.

"Oh, he's...well let's just say he's taking care of business." She responded. Cryptic, he thought.

"So how does this game work?" He asked, lacing his voice with sarcasm. "Do I have to kick your ass or are you going to just tell me what I want to know?"

"Where would be the fun in that?" She stepped forward, and Ed watched in awe as her fingernails grew into long, thin talons that looked like they could cut through his very soul.

"So." She said. "How do you like my Ultimate Spear? It can pierce through just about anything, you know."

"That's pretty cool." Ed said through stretched lips and clenched teeth. He wasn't going to let her know just how intimidated he actually was by those spears of hers. He dropped to the ground, pressing his palms to the dirt and pulling up a pretty wicked looking spear (if he didn't say so himself) from it, leaving a crater from where he'd taken the material. He wasn't sure how much good it'd do against something with a name like 'Ultimate Spear', but it was better than nothing at all.

He braced himself, and without any more verbal communication the fight began. Lust rushed forward and swiped at him with one hand of talons and ducked, swiping his spear upwards in an arc. The metal tip grazed her talons with a metallic shriek and she snarled, swiping across at him with her other hand. He spun out of the way and rolled on the ground, jumping up and holding up his spear in a defense position just in time to avoid having his head chopped off. Taking a risk, he pulled his spear free of the block and thrust himself forward, stabbing the end of it towards her. The tip of the spear missed her stomach by a centimeter, and he cursed.

Unbalanced by the thrust, he somersaulted and launched himself up, up between her arms where her freaky fingernails couldn't grab him and stabbed the spear into her head. For a moment, nothing happened except blood pouring from the big ass hole in her face, but then, to Ed's horror, Lust started laughing. He yanked the spear back towards himself and stepped back, and then back again. Blood gushed from her wound as she laughed, and then a kind of buzzing sound filled the air and red lighting was crackling around her face and within moments what would have been certain death for a human was completely healed, and Lust was licking the blood around her lips.

The homunculus giggled, and without warning she shot all ten of her talons towards him, and there was no way he could have ever blocked all of them. He threw himself to the side just before he got himself completely skewered, but still her pinky finger shot straight through his side like a bullet. Pain exploded and as she yanked her finger back out she stepped towards him, and despite the fact that his side felt like it was on fire he somehow managed to lift his spear and thrust it into her left hand.

Well.

That did something.

The homunculus froze, her arm going limp. The rest of her body began to twitch, and when he yanked the spear tip back out she screamed, even as the wound was healing. She snarled at him and lifted her other hand but Ed thrust forward again, and once again she froze as the spear embedded into her flesh and came out the other side. Ed took this chance to transmute himself another blade, which he then shoved through her remaining free hand. She shrieked and Ed pushed her to the ground. Her body completely paralised,she could do nothing to block her fall and she hit the ground with a thud, her long, curly black hair tangling underneath her shoulders. He stood over her, and with the bottom of his foot, pushed the blade further into her hand so it stuck into the ground. She began to scream but slammed her mouth closed, making only a pained noise in the back of her throat. Ed grabbed the handle of the spear and did the same thing again. When he was done, he looked over her.

"So," he said, "Looks like I won this round after all." She snarled at him, a feral animal trapped in a cage, but said nothing. "Well, I've got a few questions for you. First of all, why did you and your freak show friend have me captured last year?"

"We needed you..." She gasped, her breath sounding pained. "Out of the way." She finished.

"Out of the way of what?"

"Of everything." Ed frowned, but changed his question.

"Did you know about everything that was going on down there? About the things they did to me?" He asked, his voice starting out even but then snarling by the end.

"Of - of course." She laughed. He slammed his foot down on the blade and she screamed again.

"So you knew, not only about how they were...changing me, but about...about what they were -"

"About how they were...raping you?" She finished, and Ed sucked in a breath. "'Course I knew. Even got the pleasure of...watching...a few times."

Edward's vision blurred, and he vaguely registered a strangled noise coming from his own mouth before he was punching the helpless homunculus woman in the face, again and again, until the rage turned into misery and he stopped, stepped back, and dropped to the ground, his entire body trembling. He made a few attempts at talking, but no noise seemed to want to leave his lips apart from strangled sobbing and short gasps for breath. Eventually he noticed a tickle in his throat and coughed, coughed again, coughed blood and time passed as he coughed until the itch in his throat was gone. His side burned like all Hell from where he'd been pierced with Lust's nail, but it had stopped bleeding, so that was something. He sat in silence for a while, not really noting the time that passed. He let himself slip into thought.

But something was bothering him, something more than the memories that would not stop resurfacing, something more than the fact that the woman in front of him had organised the worst three months of his entire life. Something bigger than the information she'd told him...

That was it! That was what bothered him. She'd given away information so freely, without any prodding from him whatsoever. He'd asked and she'd told. That was wrong, she shouldn't have just done that.

He stood.

"Lust!"

"..Yes?" He heard after a moment. He looked down at her, stared into her purple eyes that just radiated evil. She was smiling.

"Why did you tell me?" He asked.

"Simple." She said. "I had to keep you here somehow."

"Why? Why did you need to keep me here?"

"Envy's out on business, although it should be finished by now. I didn't want you interfering." She said.

"What business?" He demanded.

"Oh, he's just killing someone who knows a bit too much."

"Who?" Ed shouted.

"Lovely man, but too intelligent for his own good, don't you think? What was his name? Oh, that's right...

Hughes."


	25. Chapter Twenty Five Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing left of you  
> I can see it in your eyes  
> Sing the anthem of the angels  
> And say the last goodbye  
> I keep holding onto you  
> But I can't bring you back to life  
> Sing the anthem of the angels  
> Then say the last goodbye
> 
> ~Anthem Of The Angels (Breaking Benjamin)

Edward ran like the entire world depended on his speed.

He become aware at some point that he'd shifted into his wolf form and was sprinting on four legs through the streets of Central. The world blurred around him, and if people screamed at the sight of him, if women hid their children for fear of him, then he noticed none of it. His mind echoed with what Lust had told him, and he'd been frozen in place for all of two seconds before he screamed at her, demanding to know where, and, oh God, he had to get there before Gracia got home, had to get there before her day out with the kids ended, had to -

No! He would not think about that. He was going to make it, dammit, he was going to get there and save Hughes if the man hadn't already saved himself, because he could not think about the alternatives. He couldn't.

He'd left Lust as she was, pinned to the ground by his knife and spear, but he doubted she'd be there if he returned. But that didn't matter right now. Hughes, had to get to Hughes -

He passed a pair of MP officers and leaped over them as they scrabbled for their guns, already out of range by the time they could pull their triggers. He roared and pushed himself harder, faster. At some point he almost crashed into a group of blue-clad officers, and he shifted, clapping his hands as he dropped to the ground and pulled back a steel club. In a whirl of steel and red and gold he'd taken them all down, and he dropped the weapon, sprinting forward. He didn't have time to fight, dammit.

He ran a corner and shoved his hands out and twisted to the side to avoid running smack into Mustang, and before he could even say anything Edward screamed. "Get out of my way!" He didn't register the shock on Mustang's face right away, just kept running, but something in his face must have been enough for his guardian, because he made no objections, just ran after him. At some point Mustang must have realised where Ed was heading, because through his peripheral vision Ed noticed Mustang randomly start pushing himself harder.

Ed shifted back into his wolf form, tearing what little remained of his clothes. Pieces of fabric still clung to his body, but he didn't care if he lost them. He leaped forward and Mustang fell far behind him as his speed increased exponentially. Up ahead, the building came into view, and his vision narrowed down to Gracia, Elicia and Alphonse walking towards the apartment building, faces jovial. When they noticed him Elicia screamed and clutched her mother, who froze. Al's mouth dropped. When he was barely meters from them he shifted.

"STAY AWAY!" He screamed, running into the building and shifting again, his wolf form bounding up the stairs to Maes' floor. His heart stopped and he slipped back into his human form; the door was open, the lock busted.

The floor was silent. He threw himself into the entryway and stopped cold.

God, the blood, it was everywhere!

The crimson liquid stained the floor, the walls, the furniture, all of it.

"Maes?" He squeaked.

He followed the blood trail in a daze, his mind screaming impossibilities at him. A jolt passed through him when he found that the trail led to the room he'd once shared with Al, and oh God now it really was staining everything, and he pushed the slightly ajar door open further and -

Oh, God!

\- he turned and threw up, a mix of blood and bile from his empty stomach hitting the floor. His ears rang and his head pounded as he wiped the blood from his lips and entered the room again. He vaguely registered footsteps thundering up the stairs. Mustang must have caught up with him.

But the sight...blood was pooled at the floor, at the foot of his bed, his bed, which Al had never taken out of the room. And atop the bed was...was...

Maes.

His body was sprawled, facing towards the ceiling. His blue uniform was ripped to shreds and his skin had been mutilated. His face was twisted with pain, his eyes open and as unseeing as the moment the life had left his body. "No.."

"NO!" A scream tore it's way from his throat and his knees gave out, just as Mustang made it to the door. He didn't hear - or see - how Mustang reacted, because his ears were ringing so loud he thought they might be bleeding, and all he could look at was the corpse of the man who had been more of a father to him than his own blood. Tears sprang in his eyes and he didn't stop them. Maes was dead, and Ed didn't know what to do. He could vaguely hear Mustang, shouting and screaming and running out of the room, but all he could think was that Maes had died angry at him. Died thinking Ed had lied to him. He had spent his final moments in Ed's old room, dying on the bed Ed had once slept in, and he had done all that thinking Ed didn't trust him.

The next thing he knew a pair of arms were lifting him to his feet, and Hawkeye was there, her brown eyes blurred by tears, and her lips were moving, she was speaking to him, but he didn't hear a single word she said. She began to steer him away, to make him leave, and he pulled from her grip, screaming, trying to get to Maes, but she was screaming too, crying too, but she was trying to keep him away and he didn't want to leave, couldn't leave. How could he leave? How could he leave Maes here like this, bloodied and dead and mutilated, his ruined body laying on his bed in his brother's room?

And God above, he was going to have to tell Al. Going to have to tell Gracia and Elicia and Al that the greatest man on earth had died in the room of his adopted son, that the man they all idolised and who had idolised them had been torn to pieces inside the walls of their own home.

No. No! He was still screaming, still trying to break free from Hawkeye's iron grip, and he vaguely registered the rest of Mustang's team entering the room, each with their own expression of horror, but he couldn't stop crying. His mind was screaming just as loudly as his voice, screaming at him that he'd done this, that this was his fault. He didn't even know how the fault could be his yet but he knew it was, everything was always his fault, every mistake was always his, and Maes' death...that was on him.

He tore free from Hawkeye's grip at last, only to be grabbed by both arms by her and Havoc, and the noise he made was not human and then he screamed again.

"Maes!

"Maes!

"MAES!

"DAAAAAD!"

And at last, he let them drag him away. Away from the sight of it. He sagged, all the fight he possessed as dead as the man who'd been his father.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Agony  
> Just let go of me  
> Suffer slowly  
> Is this the way it's gotta be?  
> Don't bury me  
> Faceless enemy  
> I'm so sorry  
> Is this the way it's gotta be?  
> Dear Agony
> 
> Leave me alone  
> God let me go  
> I'm blue and cold  
> Black sky will burn  
> Love pull me down  
> Hate lift me up  
> Just turn around  
> There's nothing left
> 
> Somewhere far beyond this world  
> I feel nothing anymore
> 
> ~Dear Agony (Breaking Benjamin)

The next week or so passed in a blur for Edward. It was like the entire world had gone dull, had lost all the joy and light it had ever contained. The once vibrant colours of the world around him had dimmed and gone foggy, like he was looking at it all through water. He barely heard people when they spoke to him, struggling to understand their words through the ringing in his ears that had not gone away. He responded only occasionally, saying words they wanted to hear through a voice hoarse from screaming.

Because nightmares worse than ever before plagued him, ravaging at him through dreams that weren't a far cry from reality. His sleep was broken almost constantly, and it was impossible to count how many times he'd wake up in one night, on the rare occasion that he was actually able to fall asleep at all.

Exhaustion weighed heavy on him, and his steps stumbled as he walked into the Church, clad in a black suit Mustang had had to hire for him. He payed no attention to where he sat, didn't really care. He just followed Mustang, walked where he walked, sat where he sat. Al sat beside him, he noticed vaguely, and he reached out a hand to grip his brother's shoulder and pull him closer. Al needed comfort, the one clear part of his mind told him.

The funeral began, but he couldn't listen.

Couldn't listen as a man who'd never met Maes began telling his life story, those he'd loved, lost, cherished and saved. His heart clenched when Gracia stood up on the small podium, to tell stories of how Maes had adored his family, her, his children. She told them all of how he'd jumped for joy and taken a thousand photos when Elicia was born, and how he'd continued to do so until it got to the point of annoying. She told them all of how he'd grown attached to Ed and Al, and how he'd adopted the youngest and had tried his damnedest to adopt Ed too. She told them all of how Maes had loved the boys like they were his own, and how they'd become his own in that too big heart of his.

Tears were flowing by the time she was finished speaking, and Ed didn't even try to stop them. He just pulled Al closer and did the only thing he knew how to do; look after his little brother.

Mustang stood at some point to tell tales of his friendship with Maes, and Ed's mind warred within him because he couldn't bring himself to listen, but also could not bring himself to ignore the stories of Maes' life, stories Ed had never known about, wished he'd asked about. Tales of who Maes was, before, during and after the war.

Mustang told them of how he'd been at breaking point, ready to just lay down and not get back up, and how Maes hold helped him push through and come back out on top. Ed lost the ability to breathe for a little while, because Maes had done the same for him, too.

At some point the storytelling ended, and Mustang, Havoc, Breda, Armstrong and one of Maes' men Ed had never met picked up the casket that contained Maes' body and took it away. The carried the damn thing from the church all the way to the cemetery, and when the funeral guests had gone and only family and friends remained, they lowered the casket into the ground, into the hole that had been dug specially for Maes. A green rug bearing the military crest had been thrown over the casket at some stage, and shots rang in his ears as Maes' mean fired the Three Volley Salute. At each shot Elicia flinched, and when the dirt was thrown back into the grave she began to scream.

Gracia picked up the little girl, too young to understand what was happening, why her daddy was being buried. Ed tuned out of it all, staring blankly as the hole was filled up, and Maes was buried from the world forever.

Ed was forced to quickly zone back into reality when he felt an insistent tug at his shoulder, and realised that Mustang was telling him it was time to go. To leave. It occurred to Ed that they were now the last two people here. The last of the small crowd that had remained for the burial.

He drew in a shaky breath, and with one last look at the small mound of dirt and the gravestone that was all that was left of Maes Hughes, he followed.

./././.

When they returned home, Ed walked straight up to his room, locked the door and lay down on his bed. Hugging into himself, he pulled in a ragged breath. The world was spinning around him as he fought to keep it together.

He wanted to scream, to scream at the world for taking away the last good thing in his life. For taking away the one person who truly understood him. Without Maes, he had nothing, was nothing. Without Maes there was just...emptiness.

He wished, God he wished, that he had never left the H.Q that day. He wished he'd just reigned in his temper, his pride, and returned to the office to discuss whatever it was that Maes had found. Wished he'd tried even once to make it up to the man who had given him everything.

It was too late now.

Maes was dead, and it was Edward's fault.

The Homunculi probably killed him because he knew too much. If they were watching Ed then they would have been watching Hughes too, would have been listening in when he told them he'd learned how the homunculi ticked, how they operated. So it really was Ed's fault. Completely, entirely.

His fault.

My fault.

The words echoed through his head, and he struggled to draw in breath. Fluids leaked from his eyes, his nose. He couldn't breathe. It was his fault. He had been the reason Maes had been killed.

And what was worse...

"DAMMIT!"

Before he could even register it, he was on his feet, and there was plaster stuck to his hand. He'd punched the wall.

His hand had gone right through it.

A sob tore through him, and a torrent of emotions followed it. Grief, guilt, pain, anger. They'd all been waging in him like a storm for more than a week, but now...anger was the easiest to deal with. He could use anger.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!" He screamed, driving his right fist into the wall again, and again, and again. He punched that wall until his arm was shaking and his fist was bleeding and there was a great gaping hole there. His anger and rage and hatred bled from his hand as he dropped to the ground, taking to the floor with his fists instead.

He had done this, this was all his fault.

Maes was gone. Maes had been killed because of Edward's pride and arrogance and he had been cut up and broken and beaten and it was all his fault GODDAMMIT!

Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard footsteps rushing up the staircase, but somehow the noise was muffled. He heard it but didn't. His fist kept flying, hitting the floor with enough force to shatter the boards beneath the carpet, with enough force to break the knuckles that had already been broken weeks ago.

Pain exploded but he pushed it aside in his head, ignoring it. His door opened and he heard Mustang's voice call his name, and when the his caretaker dropped to his knees beside him and put a hand on his shoulder Ed flinched away, bloodied and ruined hand travelling behind him to smack Mustang in the jaw on pure instinct.

Mustang gave no reaction other than a hiss of pain.

An inhuman noise akin to a screech tore from his throat and he twisted away, punching whatever was closest. Ed didn't even know what he'd in his frenzy of anger but dammit he felt his bones crunching and blood flew. He made to punch again but a large hand grabbed his wrist and held firm, and Ed swung around and tried to hit with his other fist but Mustang caught that too, and Ed snarled and looked up and -

stopped.

Tears stained Mustang's face, and new ones were still falling. His eyes were puffy and he looked like he was ready to give up on the world and go on a murderous rampage.

Ed could identify.

There was already a bruise forming from where Ed's fist had connected with his face, and a trickle of blood leaked from his lip. Ed must have hit a tooth.

For a while they just sat there like that, staring at each other, and Ed eventually noticed the self-loathing in Mustang's obsidian eyes. He blamed himself as well.

"It's my fault." He whispered, his head lowering. His gaze set on Mustang's knees and he whispered the words again, the first time he'd admitted it to anyone but himself. "It's my fault they killed him. He only - " Ed hiccuped, and tried again. "He only tried to find out about the homunculi because they attacked me. They were watching me. They heard him say he knew how they worked, what their weaknesses were. So they killed him."

Mustang sucked in a breath through his teeth, the hissing made Ed flinch. "It's all my fault." He repeated.

Silence followed, but then Ed heard Mustang pull in breath to speak. "God Ed, if it's your fault then it's mine too. I'm the one that split us up that day to look for you when you vanished. I should have stayed with him, should have...been there. I could have protected him."

They fell silent once more, and eventually Edward said, "If we're both gonna just wallow here in self pity blaming ourselves, then how about we do something useful with it?"

Mustang looked at him then, really looked at him, and asked. Something started to piece itself back together in him then. Not hope, there was no point when there was nothing he could do to stop Maes' death. But he could avenge him.

"We find the Homunculi, the one named Envy. We find him, and we kill him. Together." Ed gave Mustang a glare to show him that he wasn't going to give up, wasn't going to let this ruin him. They were both left broken from this, but Ed wouldn't let it stay that way. They'd fight it, fight the Homunculi, and avenge the man who had meant the world to both of them. They could do this.

Mustang gave him a fierce stare in response and nodded. "Together." He said. For a moment, Ed thought he saw something like fire light up Mustang's eyes. But then, as if he was battling some physical darkness within him, the fire started to flicker again. "But...not tonight."

Ed leaned back and Mustang let go of his wrists and stood, leaving without a word, not commenting once on the broken wall.

No, not tonight. Tonight he could be broken, one last time.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow, vengeance.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame it on me,  
> Set your guilt free.  
> Nothing can hold you back now.
> 
> ~Lacrymosa (Evanescence)

As it turned out, tomorrow wasn't the day for vengeance either.

Edward and Mustang had spent the entire day combing the city, but the homunculi were not to be found. They isolated themselves, waited, but nothing came. They searched everywhere they could think of - everywhere but...that place. Edward wasn't ready to go back down there yet, so he didn't tell Mustang about it. If he did, the man's blind rage, a rage that was slowly building until it was near tangible, would drive him to go down there without preparing himself, and then what?

By the end of the day, they'd come up with nothing, and had felt a quiet mix of anger and exhaustion. Once they got home and showered, Roy announced he was going out, and that Ed should stay here. "Where?" Ed had asked.

"Bar." Had been his brief response before he'd walked out the door and left Ed alone.

Ed fell onto the couch, exhausted, and put his head in his hands, massaging his temples. After sitting for a few moments in silence, he ended up grabbing an action novel off of Mustang's shelf and reading it by the lamp. He stayed awake late into the night reading about the adventures of an assassin girl in a glass castle, and when his eyes began to sting he looked up at the clock to discover it was well into the morning. Three forty two a.m. Shit. God he was tired.

Just one more chapter.

Maybe just another.

It was well past four thirty in the morning, and Ed had found a scrap piece of paper to use as a bookmark. He'd just been about to head off to his room to go to bed when Mustang came crashing through the door, completely shitfaced, stumbling over his own feet. He dropped his keys twice and Ed was too stuck in place to help him. He'd heard stories from Breda and Havoc of how Mustang could get when he was drunk, but he'd never actually witnessed it.

It was scary.

One moment he was stumbling over his feet, struggling to lock the door and take off his coat, but the moment his eyes locked with Ed's, his entire demeanor changed.

His posture straightened completely, his eyes cleared, that vague gaze replaced with piercing clarity.

Ed's fingers twitched as a chill ran down his spine.

Mustang moved toward him, his steps completely sobered, and Edward retreated on instinct before holding his ground. Something was wrong here. Something haunting held residence in Roy's eyes and Ed would be damned to admit it, but it was terrifying. "Mustang..." Roy's eyes furrowed and a rage flashed through them that had Ed drawing in a sharp breath. Roy looked angry. Very, very angry.

At him.

Ed's exhausted mind tried in vain to search for a reason, but nothing came to him, and as Mustang took another step and Ed had to force himself not to retreat again, he remembered something that Breda had once told him. "Roy gets violent when he's drunk." Shit. Shit.

Ed made a quick decision. He wasn't going to fight Roy when they were both so tired, and not when Roy was drunk. He didn't want either of them to get hurt. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened. And Roy would only feel guilty in the morning, and he didn't need that.

He ran.

Quick as he could, he darted up the stairs, and he heard Mustang roar something akin to "get back here" over his footsteps. He dashed to his room, slamming the door just in time for Mustang to crash against it. He went to flip the lock, only to remember that the lock was on the outside of the door. Crap.

He leaned against the door, putting all his weight into it, hoping it would be enough to hold Mustang back. The older man crashed against the door again, once. Twice. Thrice.

Ed's eyes darted to the dresser against the wall. It was light enough that he could easily push it to the door and use it as a blockade, but that would require leaving the door unguarded for an immeasurable amount of seconds while he got there and pushed it back and into place, seconds he didn't have.

Fuck.

C'mon, Mustang, just go to bed already! He braced himself as Mustang threw himself at the door again, roaring, but Ed blocked it all out. He's just drunk, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it! The words Mustang screamed at him hurt, but he shut it out, tried his damnedest not to listen.

Eventually, Mustang stopped banging on the door, stopped trying to get to him, and when he heard his footsteps leave, he rushed to his dresser and quickly pushed it in front of the door. He sucked in a deep breath, got into his nightclothes and went to bed. Sleep met him quickly, despite everything.

./././././

Ed woke mid-scream, from a dream filled with mutilated corpses floating through a white void. Sweat rolled down his face and he rubbed sleep from his eyes. He caught sight of the dresser in front of his door, and it took a moment to remember why it was there. It all came back with a bang, and fell back into bed. Holy shit, that had been intense. Ed had no doubt that if he'd allowed Mustang to get a hold of him last night, he would have gotten the shit beaten out of him. Especially if those acidic words Mustang had spewed were to be believed.

God, did he even want to leave his room today? Would it even be safe to? The answer for both questions was the same, but he got dressed, returned the dresser to it's rightful place and left anyway, his feet light on the staircase. He could hear Mustang in the kitchen, boiling the kettle. Must be making coffee. Gross.

He poked his head out the door frame and it seemed that Roy was in a good enough mood, so he deemed it safe (ish) to enter. He sat at the kitchen table and waited for Mustang to hand him a plate full of the bacon and eggs the man had seemingly already cooked. They sat and ate in silence, neither one of them bringing up the events of only a few hours prior.

The work day passed in a blur, Mustang signing endless documents that Hawkeye placed on his desk and Edward assisting his team with whatever it was they needed, whether it be sorting documents or fixing things or just keeping them company. Mustang clocked off at six in the evening, and they headed out. It wasn't quite dark yet, but it was getting there.

They walked in silence for a while, and Ed was content to leave it that way. At least, he had been until Mustang made a wrong turn. "Uh, home's this way." He pointed out. Mustang glared at him.

"That may be so. But the bar's this way." Ed stared. Mustang stared back.

"Colonel..." He started, sighing. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Not particularly." Mustang responded. Everything after my eighth drink is gone."

"Mustang, that's not healthy." Ed said. "Getting that blind is not good for you. Especially when - "

"When what, Fullmetal?" He snapped. Edward said nothing. If Mustang really remembered nothing, then maybe it was a bad idea to remind him. Hell, it may have been a one time thing. But he really doubted that.

"Do I need to remind you, Elric, that you don't get to tell me what to do? You're my charge, not the other way around, and I'll do whatever I damn well please." Mustang was teetering on dangerous levels of contained anger, and Ed realised he needed to calm him down, now. Before something incredibly stupid happened.

"Mustang," he said. "You're angry. I know. So am I. We both blame ourselves for what happened. But getting drunk is not the way to deal with this. You think Maes would want -"

He was silenced by a slap to the face.

His head snapped to the side, his cheek stinging. "Don't you dare talk to me about what Maes would want!" Mustang snarled. "Not when you're the one that got him into this! You think you know him? I've been his best friend for years, Fullmetal! Years! You forced your way into his life for barely over one, so shut. The fuck. Up. And get home." Edward was still processing everything when Mustang shouted "NOW!" Ed jumped, spun on his heel and took off, walking as fast as he could, his breath short. So Mustang really did blame him for what happened. The words he had spoken in his drunken rage were true.

He suppressed a sob, turning the words over in his mind until he made it home. It occurred to him that he didn't have a key. "Shit." He mumbled, wondering whether or not he'd get in trouble if he alchemically opened the door. He clapped his hands and pressed them to the lock, but his mind was scrambled and he only succeeded in deforming it. "Shit!" He dropped to the ground, his butt hitting the porch floor with a thump. He put his head in his hands.

He started to shake. It was really dark now. There weren't any streetlights out here. The darkness felt like it was creeping in on him, suffocating him. He closed his eyes and was greeted with the sight he knew he'd never ever forget. Maes' body, laying face up on Ed's bed, blood leaking from every bit of him. His body sliced and slashed and mauled. His clouded, unseeing eyes open and pained.

Claws pinched at his scalp, and he realised he was slipping into his wolf form. He'd been doing that a lot lately, without noticing. He'd had a lot of control over it before Maes had died, but now it was beyond him again a lot of the time. He was pretty sure he'd changed the night before, otherwise he had no idea how he'd managed to hold the door for so long against Mustang's full weight. He didn't remember changing, but now he thought he had.

Dammit, he had to get a hold of himself. Had to calm down. He drew in deep breaths. He needed to fix that lock, or he was gonna feel Hell when Mustang got back. Once he remembered what the lock originally looked like, once he'd fixed it, he decided he was going to have to wait it out until Mustang got home. His clothes weren't particularly warm though, and it was getting colder by the minute. He wasn't wearing a coat. It had been to hot for a coat. Crap.

He sat there shivering for what felt like forever when he felt it. The change. Again. But he couldn't stop it this time. It was coming. His bones snapped and elongated, his feet stretching out, his fingers now tipped with claws. His skull morphed into something resembling a wolf's, and his tailbone stretched out and became an actual tail that curled around him. Golden fur sprouted from beneath his clothes as they ripped and fell away at his new size.

When the transformation was complete, he realised he was warmer. His wolf form dealt with the cold a lot better than his human one.

Well, wasn't that fucking dandy.

He lay down on the porch, tucking his limbs underneath himself and resting his snout on his hand/paw things. He closed his eyes again. Sleep came quickly. His dreams were a dizzying thing in which he was flung from one horror to the next, and when he was jolted from it he couldn't say he was disappointed.

His body jolted again, and his fuzzy head realised he was being kicked. He made to jump to his feet but realised he was still in wolf form. He yelped as a black boot connected with his ribcage again and he hauled himself to his feet and changed back, his now human form shivering and mostly naked on all fours. He gave thanks to a God he didn't believe in that his pants were still intact enough to conceal his most private areas. He looked up to see Mustang staring down in contempt at him, probably wondering why he was asleep outside.

"I don't have a key." He explained, his voice weirdly quiet. Mustang raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering to the tattered remains of his clothes.

"Cold." He said, lowering his eyes. What the Hell was wrong with him? Since when did he feel the need to explain himself to Mustang? Since when did he feel the need to submit to him? Anger coursed through him and he stood, meeting Mustang's glare with one of his own. "I wouldn't have needed to if someone hadn't decided to go out for another night of drinking." He growled. The Colonel narrowed his black eyes and unlocked the door, shoving Ed hard through it. Ed stumbled for a moment before regaining his feet, turning around just in time to have his face acquainted with his superior's fist.

He fell backwards, his feet struggling to find purchase. Didn't matter. Before he could regain his balance, Mustang punched him in the face again, and Edward fell down. He gasped for breath as Mustang sent a foot into Ed's gut, then setting it down on his chest, pinning him there. He felt claws growing.

"Don't you dare." Mustang warned. Ed tried his best to reign in the change, but it was hard to fight the instinct to protect himself, but shit, if he hurt Mustang, even a little bit, then he would be hauled off to a lab, and fuck anything was better than that. He squirmed, and Mustang bent down and grabbed him by his bangs, hauling him to his feet while he hissed in pain.

"You little shit." Mustang growled lowly. "You think you have the right to talk to me however you damn well please? Well, you don't. I don't know what you think gave you the right to talk to me that way, but you won't do it again, or you're going to regret it."

"You're...drunk." Edward gritted through his teeth.

"Actually, not really, no." Mustang said. "I only had a few drinks this time. But I did a lot of thinking. About you. You're half right, you know? I am angry. But not at myself. I'm pissed at you! You're the one that got Maes dragged into all this shit with you and the Homunculi, and it's your fault they killed him! I've been good to you, but you don't deserve it. Not after what you've done." He threw Edward down to the ground, stomping on his fingers. Ed screamed in his throat. Everything was going fuzzy. He couldn't think.

Shit, shit, shit.

He groaned as Mustang grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed, nails digging into Ed's skin and drawing blood as he was lifted onto his knees, then to his feet. Mustang grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall, and Ed's head made a meaty sound on impact. The Colonel's hands wrapped around his throat and lifted him high. Ed's legs flailed as he tried blindly to find his footing, hands grabbing at Mustang's, clawing at them, trying to pry them away. He couldn't breathe, his eyes couldn't focus, he was going to pass out.

Just when Ed was about to go under, Mustang let him go and he dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, trying to refill his lungs with the oxygen he so desperately needed. A salty tear found it's way onto his lips and he licked at it. He hadn't realised he'd started crying. He sobbed a breath and flinched when Mustang's hand grabbed his chin and lifted it upwards, until Ed was half-blindly gazing into his superior's cold eyes.

"Don't forget, Elric. You're under my control. You do what I say, or face the consequences. Do you understand me?" He shook him. "I said, do you understand me?"

Ed smiled weakly. "Fuck you."

Mustang punched him on the side of the head, and darkness swallowed him.


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The strangle holds, the insulting names,  
> The wound up shirt around his fist;  
> The nose to nose, beer-stinking breath.  
> Thrown down onto the floor,  
> So battered, bruised and sore  
> Thrown down onto the bed,  
> And thrash until you break your neck
> 
> Hell's where I was born! Hell's where I was raised,  
> This hell is where I'm from and this hell is where I'll stay.
> 
> ~Hush (Hellyeah)

Several weeks passed in a similar fashion. Most nights Mustang opted to visit the bar and leave Edward to return home alone. Only occasionally did he remember (or care) to give Edward the keys, so he spent a lot of his nights outside in wolf form waiting for his supervisor - Edward's contract with the military had ended, he really needed to stop referring to the Colonel as his superior - to return home. Mustang's return usually came with a special side of beating, just for him.

If the team knew about Mustang's drinking problem, they made no comment. Well, at least not anymore. Lieutenant Hawkeye had tried several times to casually bring it up, and then forgone any attempt at subtlety and just outright told Mustang his alcohol consumption was out of control. Needless to say, it didn't go down well. Mustang had spent ages yelling at the Lieutenant, Hawkeye yelling right back. They fought and fought until finally Hawkeye realised that she was not going to get anywhere. There was no stopping Mustang from drinking, he was just too addicted.

Which, of course, just meant more physical pain for Ed. Even in his drunken state, Mustang was usually aware enough not to hit him anywhere that might be noticed by anyone; the last thing he needed were child abuse charges. But every now and then he slipped up and left a bruise on Ed's face. Ed knew that Hawkeye at the least knew about it, but he was pretty sure he could keep it from the rest of Mustang's circle.

They'd mostly stopped looking for the Homunculi. Roy didn't get out of the office until evening, and then he spent the time they could have used at the bar getting shitfaced. Ed had tried once to go out searching himself, but when he'd got back after hours of finding absolutely nothing, he returned to a very pissed off Mustang. And Mustang hadn't just beaten him that night. No, the man had gotten creative. Beatings, Ed could handle. Being drowned...he couldn't.

Mustang had filled the sink full of water while Ed was slumped against a wall, nursing a torso so bruised he couldn't stand. The Colonel had picked Ed up by the hair and dragged him to the sink. By the time Ed realised what was happening, his face was submerged in the cold water. He'd kicked and screamed and fallen into a full-on panic, and Mustang didn't lift his head out until he'd stopped struggling and been on the verge of passing out.

Ed shuddered, remembering that night. These past few weeks had been hard, but that night had been the worst. That was the first time he'd actually feared for his life. He was always on edge around Mustang now, not just when he was drunk. Because that was the interesting bit. He hadn't been drunk. He'd been sober and that was what really instilled the terror. Even through all the beatings, Ed hadn't really been all that scared of the Colonel, not too worried about being hurt until nightfall came, but now...

Now he knew Mustang could hurt him sober, too.

Mustang couldn't even walk past Ed now without the young Elric tensing up and hunching over. He was truly afraid now, and that was what he hated the most. He hadn't been this terrified of anyone since those months in the underground laboratory. At least that was under the guise of 'science'. This was just cruelty, and Edward was the helpless victim.

Again.

Dammit, this was shit. What a fucking horrible position he was in. He couldn't go anywhere without Mustang, because otherwise the Fuhrer would give the order to have him sent away for dissection. Victim here, dead there. What a wonderful set of options he had to choose from. He wondered, as he sat at a shit booth at a shit cafe with his shit guardian opposite him, if this would go on for the rest of his life. Surely at some point he'd be deemed safe, right?

He wondered if he should ask.

He did.

"I honestly have no idea, Fullmetal." Mustang said. Ed bristled. He wasn't part of the military anymore, Mustang shouldn't be calling him that anymore. "When General Grumman informs me that the Fuhrer has requested a report on your behavior, then one will be made. Until then, your time with me is undetermined."

"Oh, okay." Ed stayed quiet after that.

About an hour passed, and while Ed was eating, a flash of gold passing over his peripheral vision caught his attention. For a brief moment, he thought it was Al. He was sorely disappointed to realise that it was a man, not a boy, that he had spotted. However, Ed couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity at him. There was just something about him that...

The man sat down, and Ed got to see his face.

He dropped his fork.

No, it couldn't possibly...it was.

"No fucking way." He whispered, getting to his feet and leaving the booth.

"Edward, what are you -" Ed ignored his guardian. His feet couldn't carry him fast enough. There, seated at the outdoor cafe, was Van Hohenheim. His father.

With a woman.

Shock at seeing his biological father mixed with rage at the sight. How dare he, how fucking dare he! How dare he be sitting there, on what was obviously a date, when he had abandoned Trisha and left her to die!

He stepped outside and yelled. "Hey!" Hohenheim's head snapped towards him, and his eyes widened. He looked exactly as Edward remembered him; square face set with a shaggy beard, long golden hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. Rectangular glasses sat atop his big nose to frame his narrow golden eyes. And he was tall, the bastard, with broad shoulders.

"Edward?" His voice was a whisper.

Edward stalked up to him and slugged him in the face. The dark haired woman squealed and slapped a hand to her mouth. "Leave!" He snapped at her. She very quickly complied.

"You bastard." Edward snarled when Hohenheim recovered. "What the Hell do you think you're doing here?" With her, he left unsaid. He felt rather than heard Mustang stop behind him, but he paid the other man no attention. No, his full concentration was on the man currently rubbing his cheek.

"Damn Edward, could have at least warned me." Hohenheim mumbled.

"Shut up! You deserved it! Now answer me, dammit! What the Hell are you doing here?!"

Edward unwittingly took a step back as his father stood from his seat and rose to his full height. His eyes narrowed even further as he stared his son down, and even Mustang stiffened, though he didn't interfere. "I'm here because you burned down my house, Edward." His voice wasn't loud, but it was hard. Hohenheim was containing his anger. Ed shuddered. "I'm here because I returned to Resembool only to find that you had burned my house to the ground. I'm here because I talked to Pinako and learned of all the things you've done since I've been gone and I wanted to find you. I'm here because I was chasing a lead on an old...colleague of mine. And you just scared off my informant."

By the time he was done, Edward was shaking. Dammit Pinako. Of course she told him everything. Ed didn't know why this came as a shock to him, it was common knowledge (at least within their family) that Pinako and Hohenheim had been friends for decades.

Informant. Whatever. Still pissed him off that the first time he saw him after almost eight years was with a woman who wasn't his mother. And...old colleague? Piss off. Who the Hell needs an informant to find a colleague, unless he was involved in some sort of sketchy business Ed was probably better off not asking about. He decided to ask about it anyway.

Hohenheim sat down. So did Mustang, albeit at another table. Ed remained standing. "Well, I say colleague. He's really more of an enemy." He said. Ed made a face that hopefully portrayed 'that doesn't make sense'. Apparently he got the gist of it. "He doesn't have a proper name, but his creations refer to him as 'Father', and so do I."

"His creations?" Mustang queried, apparently unable to refrain his curiosity any longer.

"The Homunculi."

Ed and Roy both cursed. Hohenheim raised an eyebrow. "We've been looking for them." The Colonel said. Hohenheim still looked skeptical. "They killed my friend." Roy elaborated quietly. Hohenheim's gaze softened.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He said. Ed highly doubted that.

"In any case," Roy said, "Why are you looking for the Homunculi?" Hohenheim looked around.

"Perhaps this is a conversation intended for less...public ears." He suggested. Mustang nodded, obviously very interested in divulging any and all information from him, and while the part of Edward that desperately wanted to find and slaughter the Homunculi for what they did screamed at him to do the same, the intense hatred he held for Van Hohenheim seemed to be getting the best of him.

"Well, that's great. You two run off together," Ed said bitterly, "And I'll just go the fuck home and try to pretend you don't exist, 'kay, Hohenheim?"

"Edward, wait -"

"No, fuck you." Ed snapped. "You don't get to tell me to wait. I'm gonna go home, because just being near you makes me sick to my stomach. It's not like I need to be there anyway. Mustang'll tell me everything later, so there's no reason I need to be here anymore." He started to walk off, but stopped when the Colonel called to him. "What?" He snarled.

Mustang hesitated before answering. "I'll be home in a few hours."

"Not getting drunk at the bar tonight?" He jeered. Mustang's expression instantly sharpened as Hohenheim gave him a look of suspicion.

"A few. Hours." He deadpanned, and Edward rolled his eyes, knowing he was going to regret it all later and not giving a single fuck about it right now.

"Whatever." He heard the conversation between his guardian and his biological sire continue, but he didn't listen to the words as he walked further and further away, the anger slowly bubbling as he fought to contain it. His outburst then had been nothing. It had been barely a fraction of what he wanted to say to Hohenheim, what he wanted to tell his sire. Now that he could think without having to talk, he decided then and there that he would never again refer to Hohenheim as his father. He didn't deserve the title. And besides, it belonged to someone else...

If Pinako had really told Hohenheim about everything that had happened to Ed since he left, then she surely told him about Maes, and how close he was to Ed and Al.

Alphonse.

That fucking bastard hadn't even asked about Al! Now Edward really was mad. He stormed home, not caring that he didn't have the damn key and that once again Mustang had conveniently forgotten to give it to him. He smashed the door open, knowing he'd just fix it with alchemy later if he ever calmed down from the rage that was threatening to swallow him whole right now.

Of all the times that bastard could show up, why did it have to be now? Maes had only been dead a little over a month, and now Hohenheim just shows up out of the blue? God really must genuinely hate him enough to want to make his life this much of a misery. First mum, and then the abduction, and then Maes and Mustang and this? This was too much. His head was going to explode. He was going to explode. This was just too messed up.

He needed to hit something.

That wall would do.

He hit it until his fist was raw and bleeding. It did nothing to quell his anger. Fuck, there was a dent in the wall. Mustang really was going to kill him.

But Holy Burning Hell, he really didn't care. Couldn't care. He was so angry and hurt and miserable and a hundred other angsty emotions all at once and he didn't give a damn about the consequences because HE HADN'T EVEN ASKED ABOUT AL!

He didn't care enough about Al to even ask about him.

Tears spilled over Ed's eyes.

He...he needed to call Al. His little brother would want to know that Hohenheim was around. Besides, better to have Ed tell him than to find out the way Ed did. Sighing and wiping away his tears, Ed dragged his feet to the phone and called Gracia's number. After a few dials, she answered.

"Hello?" God, it had been ages since he'd heard Gracia's voice. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it.

"Hey, Gracia, it's me, Ed." He said.

"Ed! How are you?" She asked.

"I'm good." He lied. "Hey, could you, uh, could you please put Al on the phone?" He hoped he hadn't sounded rude.

"Sure thing, hold on a second," Some muffled crackling, and then he heard Gracia call out to his younger brother from a distance.

"Edward!" Alphonse exclaimed. Ed smiled, the sound of his brother's voice calming his nerves, if only a little bit.

"Hey Al, I got some news for you." He said, pausing for a moment before continuing. "Hohenheim's here, in Central."

"Dad's here?" Alphonse squealed into the phone, and Ed winced. Then he scowled. Al hadn't really been old enough when Hohenheim had left to really understand the impact it'd had on mum, but Ed remembered. Edward remembered every time she cried because he was gone, or got that distant look in her eyes that Ed knew meant she was thinking about him. He remembered the few days directly following his departure, how much of a wreck their mother had been, despite her attempts to hide it from them both. Al had remained oblivious, but Ed...Ed knew.

"Yeah, I ran into him about..." He checked the clock, "An hour ago."

"And you're only just telling me?" Al squealed in his ear again.

"Sorry Al, but it...didn't go well. It took me a while to calm down. I fucked up Mustangs door and a wall. Crap, he's gonna kill me for that."

"I highly doubt that, but tell me Ed, what'd you and dad talk about?" Ed could feel Al's excitement practically oozing from the phone line, so he took a deep, calming breath, and filled his little brother in on what happened, minus his final comment to Mustang, that was. Al didn't need to be fretting about that.

When he was done, Al took in a breath likely intended to help him think, and said; "So dad knows about the Homunculi too? I wonder what his connection with them is. You should have gone with them, Ed."

"Yeah, well, I didn't wanna spend another second near that bastard." Ed snapped. Besides, Mustang'll just tell me when he gets back, so it's not like I'm going to be completely clueless." He checked the clock. "In fact, he should be home soon. But before he gets here." He took a breath, smiling a little. "How you been, Al? It's been a while since we've talked."

Al got excited after that, yapping to Edward about everything he'd done over the past week and since they'd last seen each other. He talked to Ed of school (Al actually went to school now! How amazing was that!) and of his friends, who, considering their young age, had been extremely supportive to him after Maes' death. Al was so lucky to have friends who he could confide in and be supported by, Ed thought to himself as Al rambled on about how one particular friend had gone the extra mile to make sure Al had been getting back to his old self. From the way everything seemed to be going, it seemed as though Al was beginning to move on from the horror and get back to his life. Ed was glad of that.

Al didn't need to be like him.

Al was such a better person than Ed was. He was innocent, and he believed there was good in everybody. He could move on from things and make friends and know that he was free to love and be loved. Everything Ed wished he had and was. For a while, he thought he'd had that, that bond that had developed between Maes and himself when Ed had finally learned to trust him. He'd begun to see good in people, and forgive them for their mistakes and let them be forgotten.

Mustang had crushed all that, once again.

"Ed? Ed! You listening?" Ed blinked. Al had been talking to him and he'd zoned out.

"What was that?" He hoped Al heard the apology in his voice.

"I said I've gotta go soon, dinners almost ready. We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Or even better, you should come round for a visit!" Al sounded so hopeful, but Ed knew Mustang'd never allow it. He suppressed a sigh.

"I'll ask the Colonel." He promised, and indeed he would. "I'm sure he won't mind." He lied.

"Thanks Ed! I love you, bye!"

"Bye Al-" Alphonse had already hung up. "Love you." He finished quietly, knowing Al couldn't hear it. He hung the phone back up and went to the lounge room, plopping himself down on one of the couches. He hadn't fixed the door yet. Or the wall. Fuck, but he didn't want to move. He groaned as he went to heave himself up. It was already to late.

"What the FUCK is THIS ELRIC?!" Mustang screamed from the doorway, and Ed cursed. He'd near shattered the wooden door on his way in. It would be an easy fix with alchemy, but that wasn't going to make the Colonel any less enraged with him. Shit, shit, shit!

Mustang stormed into the lounge room, spotted Ed sitting on the couch, already tense, mentally preparing himself for a beating. It was lucky Gracia had called Al away when she had, Ed thought as Mustang's thundering footsteps brought him ever closer to Ed's sitting spot. Al would have wondered at Mustang's screaming, he would have heard it over the phone, and Ed wouldn't have had the time to hang up without being suspicious. Lucky, he thought, as Mustang grabbed the fabric of his shirt with two hands and yanked him to his feet.

"What the fuck did you do to the door?" Mustang snarled into his face.

"You didn't give me the damn key." Edward growled back.

"So you think that gives you the right to smash my door?" Spittle flew in Ed's face as Mustang shook him. Ed couldn't think of a reasonable answer, so he said nothing. A few seconds passed. "You brat," The Colonel growled, letting go of his shirt and pushing him back onto the couch. He proceeded to go to the kitchen, leaving Ed to contemplate whether or not to stay here or offer to help.

He decided on neither, getting to his feet and following, but not to help. To demand answers.

"What did you and Hohenheim talk about?" He asked. Mustang looked over his shoulder at him while he pulled a plate from the cupboard. A look of vexation crossed his features. He furrowed his eyebrows deeper.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He said at last.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Ed went around the little table to face Mustang properly as the man put down his plate. "Nothing to concern myself with? Literally anything that bastard had to say, I want to know about. Spill."

"No." Mustang said firmly.

"Tell me!" Ed shouted.

"I SAID NO!" Mustang roared, and Ed pause, but only for a moment.

"Why the fuck not?" He demanded loudly.

"Because you don't need to know, and don't take use that language with me, Elric."

"Please, you're not my father, don't pretend to give a flying fuck whether I swear or not." Mustang slapped his cheek, and Ed's head twisted with the impact. "Hey, FUCK YOU!" Edward screamed, and Mustang slapped him again. The older man gripped the younger's biceps tightly and held them to his side.

"That's enough, Edward." He said, his voice deadly quiet, and Ed could barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. "No, you are going to go to you room, right this instant, and you are going to stay there until morning. Do I make myself clear?"

"Fuck you, I want dinner." Edward glared defiantly at his superior. He was momentarily shocked when he suddenly wasn't standing on the ground anymore; Mustang had picked him up and held him in a vice grip against his chest. He carried Ed to the stairs and then up them, despite Ed's wriggling attempts to get away, and to Ed's room. The door was already open so the Colonel just slipped through the door-frame and tossed Ed onto the bed, and turned to leave as Ed rolled and fell off in a heap onto the floor.

Ed stilled on the floor, poised to get up, as Mustang noticed the dent in the wall.

The Colonel turned around slowly, catching Ed's eye and staring with an intensity that even Ed hadn't yet seen. He took in a deep breath, and said, almost too quietly for Ed to hear, "Not only did you shatter the door, but you also damaged your wall?" Ed said nothing, wanting to lower his head and cower. He didn't, kept eye contact, but he felt some of his fire flicker. He shivered as Mustang took a step towards him. For a moment, nothing happened, but then -

"You ungrateful little SHIT!" Mustang kicked Ed in the chest, sending him crashing him into the chest of drawers behind him, the knob handle digging into his back. He tried to curl in on himself as Mustang sent another kick into his gut, pushing him to the side, but when he threw out his arms for balance, he left his head wide open for another kick.

He went tumbling, hit the ground hard. His vision blurred and his hearing went fuzzy as the impact from each rocked his brain. He very vaguely registered Mustang picking him up by his bangs and lifting him into the air. The pain from having his hair pulled then hit him very suddenly, and he grunted. Mustang lowered himself to eye level.

"You're a piece of shit, you know that, Elric? An ungrateful. Piece. Of shit." The words stung Ed, and he fought tears as Mustang dropped him unceremoniously back onto the bed and left, slamming the door behind him. As the lock twisted and the sound of Mustang's steps faded away, Ed, not bothering to pull the blankets back over himself, instead letting the change come over him and warm himself with his fur, curled into a ball.

And cried.


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't undo the scars  
> All up and down our hearts  
> Can't forget how it felt when it all fell apart  
> And we talk a big game like we wanna get well  
> In our prison made of pain  
> Only fooling ourselves
> 
> ~Get Well II (Icon For Hire)

"Al wants us to stay for dinner tonight." Ed said as they ate breakfast at the relatively small dining table the next morning. Mustang didn't even look up at him when he said no. Ed sighed. Sorry, Al, he thought, I tried. He stuffed some more pancake in his mouth, stomach growling, hungry from receiving no food the night previous. Something else he retained from last night was a pounding headache accompanied by a lump on his head, and a black and purple bruise right on his chest from where Mustang has kicked him. He also had a little bruise on his back from the drawer handle. He'd made sure to put on a shirt that covered it all up completely.

He doubted the shirt could cover up that it hurt to breathe.

After a few minutes of silence while Mustang continued to ignore him, intent on devouring whatever knowledge the day's paper had for him, Ed decided to try again and find out what the Colonel had learned from that bastard, Hohenheim, but maybe from a subtler angle.

"So," he said, as casually as he could, "What's on the itinerary for today?"

"You misused 'itinerary'." Was Mustang's response. Ed clenched his fist.

"Oh?" He prompted. Mustang sighed, likely in exasperation.

"Itinerary means a planned travel route, or a document detailing a travel route. 'Schedule' would work better in your context."

"Huh." Would you look at that, it was only eight in the morning (ugh, God he hated mornings) and he'd already learned something. He sipped at his Milo. It was too early to learn, dammit. "So, what's on the schedule for today?" He tried again.

"I have plans to meet again with Hohenheim. He's going to go into more detail about the Homunculi this time."

Ed didn't want to accompany him. "Can I accompany you this time?" He asked anyway. If Mustang wasn't going to tell him about what happened in these meetings then he was just going to have to suck it up and go, regardless of his feelings about Hohenheim.

"I think it's best if you didn't. I want to actually be able to talk to the man, and if you're there you'll likely just keep interrupting and starting fights." Mustang sipped at his coffee, actually looking at Ed now, waiting for his response.

"I will not!" Ed almost whined. "I'll shut up and listen, I will!" The Colonel narrowed his eyes at the younger, and Ed crossed his fingers under the table. He wanted to know how to find Envy, so he could tear the bastard into bloody ribbons for what he did to Hughes.

A moment passed before, "Fine. But I want you to keep silent, and I mean absolutely silent, whilst Hohenheim talks, and you do not interrupt him, got it?" Ed nodded. "If you have questions, wait until he's finished."

"I will." Ed repeated. Mustang looked at him for a few moments longer, even raising an eyebrow at him, but when Ed said nothing else he grumbled something about 'ungrateful' and put some more pancake in his mouth. It then occurred to Ed that he was probably waiting for Ed to thank him. Well, whatever, it was too late now. Besides, after all the shit Mustang had put him through, he didn't deserve a thanks.

They drove in silence to the meeting place, and when they pulled up Ed spotted Hawkeye at the entrance way to what appeared to be a massive unused storage facility. She saluted as they exited the car and opened the door for them.

He wondered for a moment whose place the building was, but then reasoned it must be Mustang's. Though why he owned an empty storage facility he couldn't figure out. The building was tall, the walls a dull, sun-dried creamy colour. As they passed through the thick wooden door Ed noticed that the walls themselves were thick too; anything said within the building would not be heard outside the walls once the door was shut. He could talk to anyone, anytime, without fear of being overheard. Well then, that explained why Mustang owned it. He probably bought the place for this exact purpose.

The interior of the place was simple, the same cream coloured walls; less faded but still kind of pale, a coffee table in the center of the room, with a couch on either side of it. On the couch facing the door sat Van Hohenheim, his golden-blonde hair, hair that Ed hated to admit was identical in colour to his own, tied back into a loose ponytail, loose strands falling over his face. His glasses were perched close to his eyes. He looked tired. Ed tried not to scoff at the sight of it.

The old bastard looked up then, caught eye of Ed, and turned to Mustang. Anger swelled in Ed's chest at being blatantly ignored, and his sire just gave him one more reason to hate him.

"You brought Edward?" He said in such a way that clearly indicated his disapproval at the eldest Elric's presence.

"He wanted to know what was going on." Mustang said by way of explanation, sitting down on the couch opposite Hohenheim, Riza taking her place beside him. There was enough room on the couch for Edward to sit beside either one of them.

He remained standing, arms folded across his chest. Moving to the wall and leaning on it, an indignant expression fixed to his face, he huffed a breath and hoped no one noticed when he almost choked on it. His throat started to itch. Fuck, and he'd gone so long without it, too. Mustang, Hawkeye and Hohenheim started to converse, and Ed tried to pay attention, he really did, but the itch in his throat was becoming harder and harder to ignore, and he knew if he started coughing now he'd never stop. And if he interrupted this meeting then Mustang wouldn't let him come to another one, if there was such.

At some point they switched topics from what the Homunculi were made of to how to effectively hurt them, but Ed didn't notice when. His attention was drifting in and out, and every time he thought the itch would finally go away it came back with a vengeance. He eventually tried to get rid of it by grunting, but when Hohenheim raised an eyebrow at him from across the room he immediately stopped. The man was making him steadily angrier, what with the occasional glance he'd throw Ed's way, and they were usually ones Edward could only perceive as irritation or annoyance, and that pissed Ed off to no end.

"I've never actually successfully killed one before," he somehow managed to zone back in in time to here Hohenheim say, "but I've found the most effective way of keeping them down is a relatively simple one."

"Oh?" Mustang said as Ed raised his own eyebrow, which Hohenheim noticed, furrowing his eyebrows but not commenting, and continued.

"I find just attacking rapid-fire with my alchemy works best. Your fire alchemy would be perfect for this, actually. Just keep burning them until the Philosopher's Stone that keeps them healing runs out of energy. I came very close to killing the Lust that came before the one that attacked Edward by simply trapping him and throwing my alchemy at him. Their master intervened before I could land the final blow, but I'm pretty sure the one they call 'Father' ended up killing that Lust himself for failing to keep me out of their nest."

"And where is the nest, exactly?" Hawkeye asked.

"Edward hasn't told you?" Hohenheim responded, and Edward stiffened. Shit, how the Hell did that bastard know he knew?

"What?" Mustang snapped, standing up and turning to face him. "You knew where the place is?" His voice was raising to a shout now. "Why the Hell didn't you tell me?!

Edward swallowed, pushing down his anxiety as best he could, and responded, "May I remind you that I was tortured down there? I had - have - no desire to go back to that place."

"We spent all that time searching for them and you didn't bother to tell me where they were!" Mustang roared, and Ed and Riza exchanged a glance. She was beginning to look a bit worried, especially as the Colonel stalked over to Ed and grabbed his shirt with a fist. "I could have killed them by now! And you kept it from me!" Mustang pulled Ed close, his breath hot on Ed's face. "You selfish little brat!"

"Colonel!" Hawkeye snapped, but Mustang payed her no mind. Instead he fisted his other hand in the collar of Ed's shirt and lifted him off the ground, pressing him against the wall. Pushing down his fear, Ed snarled at him, "I didn't tell you because you would've charged in there and gotten yourself killed!"

"That is not your call to make you little -"

"MUSTANG!" Both Ed and Mustang started when Hohenheim roared, and Ed shrank into himself a little at the expression of contained fury on Hohenheim's face. "I would advise you," He said, an obvious effort being made to restrain himself, "To let my son go."

"I'm not your son!" Ed snarled, pushing Mustang off of him at last and dropping to the floor. "You lost the right to call yourself my father the moment you walked out that door and didn't come back." He shoved his shoulder into the older man on his way to the door, knocking him out of the way, and slammed it behind him.

He stalked across the gravel to the small grove of trees some hundred metres away, leaning his back against one of them and sinking to the ground, his entire body shaking. The itch was driving him mad, but he didn't want to give in to it just yet. Instead he closed his eyes, resting the back of his head against the harsh texture of the tree, and tried to slow his racing heart.

He couldn't believe that Mustang had gone at him so hard in front of other people, especially Hawkeye. Usually he managed to restrain himself until he was in the safety of his own home before going at Ed like he had, but Ed supposed his anger was justified, just this once. Ed had kept important information from him, he had a right to be angry at him.

Hell, maybe he was even right this time. Maybe Ed really was just selfish. After all, what he'd said had been a complete lie, he hadn't kept his knowledge from Mustang for the reason he'd said, although it'd been a very valid point. He'd kept it from him purely because he knew that if he told Mustang where the Homunculi were hiding out then Mustang would want to go down there, and he'd make Ed go with him, and Ed didn't ever want to go back there again. It hadn't been for Mustang's safety, it was because Edward was too much of a coward to face his own memories and the fears - however rational - they invoked.

And God...Hohenheim.

He'd called Edward his son and Ed had just...reacted.

He hated the word 'son' falling from his sire's lips as though he had the right to say it. And what he'd said to the man, while completely warranted...made him tremble all over in anger, because it was true and he hated it. He hated Hohenheim for abandoning his family like he had. He hated him for abandoning his mum, and for abandoning Al, but most of all he hated Hohenheim for abandoning him.

There, he finally admitted it.

All his life he'd hated Hohenheim, and whenever he spoke about he always generalised it and said 'us', and that was true, but he'd also said it to avoid the truth in his own mind. Hohenheim had abandoned Edward, and for that he hated him. Hell, it was probably the direct cause of Edward's borderline crippling self worth issues. When Edward watched that man walk out the door and never come back, that had been when Edward had started to wonder if he was really good enough for his father, or his mother, or Granny or Winry or anyone he ever came across that acted like they even remotely cared for him.

He wasn't arrogant enough to think that all his problems were Hohenheim's fault, no, but he also knew that that one act had shaped Edward's character in such a way that it had definitely had a lasting effect on how Edward handled his personal issues.

A loud sob tore it's way free of Ed's mouth and he clapped his hand over his mouth. Jesus, all these emotions were starting to get the better of him, and he wasn't sure if he could hold in the tears that threatened to escape. Goddammit, was he so weak that he would allow himself to cry twice in two days? After Mustang's beating last night he'd cried himself to sleep, he should have used up all his tears by now. But here he was, thinking about life, about to cry again. The weight he'd been carrying since he was a child felt like it was just getting heavier and heavier, like it was going to crush him.

Tears began to stream unbidden down his face, and his chest tightened. Once again he became painfully aware of how much his throat burned, and some part of him thought if anyone saw him now he could blame the tears on it.

He then finally allowed himself to indulge in the itch in his throat and he doubled over as coughs began to rack his body; it didn't take very long at all for the blood to start making it's way up his throat, and soon the grass beneath his face was stained red with it.

He stiffened when it occurred to him that he could faintly hear someone making their way through the grass toward him, and assuming it was Hawkeye based on the light footfalls, he let himself relax a bit, at least before another cough brought his world back to the burning in his throat and the throbbing in his head.

Between coughs he heard the footsteps come to a stop directly beside him, and when he could breathe properly again for a moment he glanced back and saw the feet standing casually beside him.

"Fuck off," he moaned, and he could hear the despair in his own voice. "Not right now." He fell into cough again as Envy chuckled.

"Well, this is a perfect opportunity." The Homunculus purred.

"For the love of God leave me alo-" He was cut off mid-sentence by another cough, and as blood sprayed from his mouth he felt Envy's arm slip under his waist and haul him up, tossing him casually over the androgynous Homunculi's shoulder. Ed's face burned in shame that he was too weak to fight back, and his head was pounding so hard that he couldn't concentrate well enough to try and think his way out, even as Envy walked away from the warehouse and any chance of being spotted. He wondered briefly if the Homunculus was going to take him back to the very place he'd spent so long doing his damnedest to avoid, and if Envy was finally going to just kill him like he'd killed Hughes.

Hughes.

Now tears really did flow from his eyes as images of his real father's corpse resurfaced in his mind. He sobbed at the way Maes' body had been mutilated and torn apart, how his mossy green eyes had stared unseeing as pain was forever frozen into his features.

"You...killed Hughes." He croaked, and he felt Envy's shoulder's shake with laughter.

"And how I enjoyed it." The Homunculus boasted.

"I'll kill you for what you did to him." Ed vowed.

"Not if I kill you first."

Ed groaned as Envy jumped down a small ledge in the ground and more blood spurted from his mouth, some of it landing on Envy's clothes and exposed skin, but most falling to the ground to stain the bright green grass a dark shade of rust.

Even in Ed's muddled state of mind, an idea sprang forth.

He shifted his position on Envy's left should slightly, and concentrated as hard as he could on his right hand. With that concentration and an immense amount of luck that was unusual for him, he managed to limit the Change to only his right hand and a bit of his arm, just enough that Envy wouldn't notice that he'd done it and wonder what he was up to.

Quietly and slowly, he extended his claws, and, biting his tongue, he sliced those claws through his left lower arm (and partially over the wrist), deep enough to cause a significant amount of blood to well from the wound and leak onto the ground. It took a supreme amount of effort not to cry out in pain, because fuck those claws sliced better than he'd anticipated and it hurt like a motherfucker, but it did the job.

He shifted his left arm despite the pain so that it hung limp, blood flowing down his wrist and over his hand before dripping silently onto the ground without hitting Envy. He rose his eyes and saw that he was leaving a very fine blood trail behind, just clear enough that you could notice it without looking for it. He prayed that Envy didn't turn around and see.

It might not be much, and they might not even find it.

But if anyone came looking for him and traced him from the warehouse to the grove of trees, from there they could find the blood trail and track him and Envy back to wherever the bastard was taking him.

That was...if Mustang or Hawkeye or Hohenheim noticed his lack of presence enough to bother searching for him.

If.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to face the fight within  
> But it's over  
> I'm ready for the riot to begin  
> And surrender  
> I walked the path that led me to the end  
> Remember  
> I'm caught beneath with nothing left to give  
> Forever
> 
> ~Angels Fall (Breaking Benjamin)

Somewhere along the way, Ed passed out due to a combination of mental exhaustion and blood loss. He briefly wondered if he'd die right here on Envy's shoulder before the darkness pulled him under. He was only slightly relived to find himself awake and, surprisingly, alive, in a cell relatively similar to the one he'd been in last time. Except this time instead of being shackled to a wall, chains were coiled tightly around each wrist and strung up to the roof in a wide 'v' formation, so that Ed would never be able to clap his hands together. Well, they learned, it seemed. There were also good ole' fashioned ball n' chain on each ankle.

Well, at least they're creative, he thought.

Drowsily he looked about himself, but there wasn't much to see. The walls were the same pale clay as they were last time, although, somewhat worryingly, the wall to his direct right was splattered with dried blood. Lot's of it. He shuddered, and did his best to avoid looking at it.

Though he couldn't help but wonder if his own blood would soon accompany it.

Stop that, he told himself. He'd figure a way out of this. He had yet to be graced by the presence of any of the Homunculi thus far, and if he thought quickly he might be able to escape before any of them came to greet him. He tugged on his wrists and realised that was highly unlikely. The chains were coiled so tightly around his wrists that they'd already started rub enough to leave his skin red and sore, and he didn't think it'd be very long before his skin tore. He lifted up each of his feet but didn't get very far; the chains attaching his ankles to the heavy weights were short and didn't allow him much room to wander from them.

The wounds on his left arm had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but judging by the lack of blood on the floor they'd stopped long before he was brought in here. Great. If anyone was even following the blood trail they'd have to do a bit of searching once it ended - wherever that was.

As well as the dried blood, his left arm ached something fierce. Damn, he'd cut really deeply, and the Homunculi obviously weren't worried about it enough to stitch or bandage it. Well, he supposed, there was no reason for them to even if it was still bleeding. They hardly cared if he was in pain or not, based on how his last...session, here went. The cuts were wide open though, and just his luck they'd get infected in whatever unclean air was down here. Wonderful. That was exactly what he needed.

He sighed and licked his lips, noticing that there was also dried blood all around his mouth. Well, it was something to do at least, as weird as the act of licking up his own blood was.

With the way the chains pulled his arms high above his head, the black shirt he was wearing rode up a little above his midriff, exposing the skin to the cold air. At least he was fully clothed this time. He still had his shirt and his leather pants and his boots. Last time he'd been chained up in nothing but his underwear, which had only been just a little bit embarrassing.

Taking a deep breath, he surveyed the situation as calmly as he could manage. He was injured, though only slightly. His hands were too far apart to use alchemy, and without it he was incapable of dragging the weights around his ankles even if he did somehow manage to free his wrists. He attempted to use his long claws to reach up and cut the chains, but whatever matrial they were made of, his claws couldn't even scratch it. He had only a general idea of where he was, and he had no idea how long his blood trail had lasted or if anyone was even following it. For now at least, he was on his own, with no way out.

To put it short, he was screwed.

He looked up again, taking note that both lengths of thick chain were hooked to their own 'D' loop in the roof. He wasn't sure how strong the roof was, being that it appeared to be granite, sandy in colour, and looked like it was shaped through alchemy, but he wondered if he could pull the loops - and thus the chains - out of the roof if he yanked on them hard enough.

He decided a quick test was in order, and gave them a soft tug. Then a harder one. Frowning and realising he was likely going to regret this, he raised his wrists as high as the slack in the chains would allow and then yanked them down as hard as he could. He yelped and then cursed as his wrists flared with pain. Fuck, this wasn't going to work, not without breaking both wrists.

Last resort it was, then.

Goddamit, why couldn't they have tied him up with rope? At least then he could have used his wolf claws to saw through it. And damn his weak-ass claws for not being capable of cutting through metal! Useless things they were!

With no other ideas running through his head, he was left with little choice but to stand there and wait for the Homunculi to rear their ugly heads and grace him with their presence. But he wouldn't let his guard down. He'd stay alert until they got here.

At least, that was the plan.

There was only so long a person could stare at the same spot without his thoughts beginning to wander and his attention beginning to wane. Time passed as it does and he found his eyelids stayed shut longer than they should when he blinked. Crap, he couldn't let himself go to sleep again, that would just be idiocy.

Thankfully (though perhaps not), Envy chose that moment to waltz through the iron door and give Ed a smirk.

"Thought you'd leave a trail, aye?" Envy asked, smiling. Ed's eyes widened as he realised Envy had found him out. "Oh, I gotta admit, that was very clever, using your own blood to leave a little trail should anyone decide to bother tracking you down. Little bit on the masochistic side though, tearring up your own arm with those claws of yours. Thankfully I realised what you'd done right before I got near the entrance. You were still bleeding, so I thought I'd take you for a bit of an adventure." Envy grinned as he said, "Your companions are gonna have trouble tracking you wonder they get near the end."

Ed suppressed a snarl. Those people were hardly 'companions', except for Hawkeye. Although even she hadn't really bothered with him for some months now, he thought. In the beginning, when he'd first escaped that Hellhole, she'd been extremely supportive, but after a while she just...stopped. Maybe she'd thought him beyond help, or maybe she'd just stopped caring. Either way, the loss had stung, and he'd avoided thinking about it until now.

"Not that any of them would even bother searching for you." Envy added, and Ed bit his tongue. Envy was wrong. Mustang would come, if only him, simply because legally Edward was his responsibility and if Mustang lost him he'd be in deep shit with the Fuhrer. He'd come, to help himself if not to help Ed. It was but a small comfort, not that he bothered voicing that to Envy.

I think I'll just keep my mouth shut this time. The bastard can't twist my words if I don't say any. This seemed like a good plan. If nothing else, it'd probably piss the Homunculus off.

"In fact, they'll probably just forget all about you. Their lives will probably be easier now that the little runt chimera's out of the way." Edward could feel his chest tightening at the barbs Envy through. The bastard knew how to get to his head, and the words were calculated.

"Of course, your brother might not. He'll wonder where you are, why you haven't called. Why you abandoned him." Envy stalked closer, til he was face to face with Ed. "Poor little Alphonse will spend the rest of his life wondering why his older brother never came home." The smallest whimper made its way past his throat, and the corners of the Homunculi's mouth stretched wider.

"What's wrong, shrimp? Not talking today?" Ed fixed his eyes on a point somewhere past Envy's left ear. "Well, that's okay, I can do the talking. So, where should we start? Oh! I know! Let's talk about Hohenheim! I know you love talking about your father!" Ed couldn't hold in a growl then. That man was not his father, and no one could tell him otherwise.

"Oh, did I hit a sore spot there, Eddy-boy? Well, we could always talk about...Hughes..." Edward visibly flinched at the name, and he knew Envy knew he'd struck home. "I could tell you how he died, of you want...?" Ed took in a shaky breath and turned his head away. It didn't matter. Envy wasn't going to let this topic go know that Ed had reacted the way he had.

"But why start the tale at the end? It's so much more fun to start from the beginning! Oh, you remember the circumstances of your...parting? He was so desperate to find you and tell you he was sorry!" Ed flinched again, and Envy's violet eyes gleamed. "The funny part is I beat him to his apartment! When he got home he thought I was you!" That bastard! Edward began to shake as Envy continued his tale. "He was so upset, oh, he looked like he was about to confess his soul to me before he realised I wasn't you! Oh, he was mad then, started going on and on about how it's my fault you got raped and that he was gonna kill me. Well, that turned around on him real quick, didn't it? He was a good fighter, but he was nothing against me. It was so easy to pin him down and start carving him up."

Edward flinched again and squeezed his eyes closed, wishing he could block his ears. So, Maes wanted to say sorry, huh?... He wasn't angry with Ed in the end after all. A great weight seemed to ease off Ed's soul, and he sagged when it sank in properly. Maes hadn't died angry with him. Edward tried to focus on that instead of he words coming out of the Homunculi's mouth, but they were hard to ignore.

"Oh, how he screamed," Envy said, he's grin stretching wide across his face, his eyes drowning in mania, "As his blood drained away. You should have seen his face! He tried so hard to pretend I wasn't hurting him in the beginning, but, like father like son, words hurt him too. Did you know that describing in detail the rape of the kid you consider a son can really fuck with your head?"

A ringing echoed through Ed's head at the words. So, he thought bitterly. I guess Lust wasn't the only one watching.

"I wanted to show him first hand what happened to you," Ed's head snapped up. Oh God, tell me he didn't... "But that's more Lust's idea of fun than mine. It's a shame we needed her to keep you busy. It would have been fun to watch Hughes be forced into cheating on his beloved wife."

Ed couldn't help but snarl. Envy was a disgusting piece of work, and that was putting it in the nicest way possible. The Homunculus continued on talking about vulgar and disgusting things that Ed would happily go the rest of his life not remembering, so he attempted to drown the words out by thinking of all the ways he could beat the androgyne into a bloody pulp. He still had no idea how he was going to get out of these restraints, but he hopped he figured it out soon. Listening to Envy describe the gory details of how he killed the man Ed considered his father was going to break him, and even he couldn't deny it.

Somewhere along the way Ed stopped being able to block it out, and was forced to hang there and listen. Silent tears streamed down his face at the gruesome detail, and just when Ed thought he might break his determination to stay silent just to scream at Envy to shut the fuck up, someone walked into the cell and shut Envy up for him.

That someone was the Fuhrer.

Hold up.

WHAT?

Ed blinked and did a double take, but it was most definitely the Fuhrer that walked in the door. He was in full uniform, swords sheathed at his hips, his trademark eyepatch fastened firmly to his head. He closed the massive iron door and approached Ed and Envy, arms crossed behind his back. He stopped before them and smiled. "How are you, Fullmetal?"

F-Fuhrer Bradley?" He stumbled over the word, a thousand possibilities running through his head, all of them more horrifying than the next. The prospect that that the Fuhrer could be in league with the Homunculi was an idea that made his hands shake.

"Oh, he speaks at last!" Envy piped, but Ed payed him no mind. He was too focused on Bradley.

"Hello, Fullmetal." The Fuhrer said. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here right now, aren't you?"

"I have a few suspicions." Ed responded. "Not one of which I like very much."

"Well, did your suspicions include this?" King Bradley reached behind his head and unfastened the eyepatch, peeling it off his head but keeping the eye shut. After a few seconds of unreasonably dramatic silence, he opened it, and Ed's blood went cold.

The Ouroboras.

He couldn't breathe as he processed what that meant.

King Bradley, the Fuhrer of Amestris, was a Homunculus!

"Holy shit..." he whispered. It was almost too much, even for him. The leader of the country, his country, was a Homunculus! This was...this was huge! He had to tell Mustang!

That was...if he ever got out of here. And with the Fuhrer himself being apart of whatever this thing was, any hope of escape or rescue seemed slim indeed. So many thoughts swam through his head, but the one he went with was the only one he could deal with at this specific moment.

"I'd salute you, esteemed Fuhrer, but..." He jerked his wrists, rattling the chains, and plastered a smirk onto his face. Humour. Now that was something he was used to, something he could cling to. To his genuine surprise, the Fuhrer actually laughed, tipping his head back.

"Even in the face of certain doom, you still have the audacity to joke. I'll admit, Fullmetal, you amuse me more than most." He said.

"I do my best." Ed responded.

"Yo, Wrath," Envy said. So, that was the Sin the Fuhrer represented. "Don't you have business to attend to? You interrupted my fun."

"I have enough spare time to stay a little longer, Envy. Besides, I'm sure young Edward is bursting with questions. I won't mind answering a few of them, with limitations, of course. So, Fullmetal, ask away."

"You have a son." Was the first thing that popped into his head. "And a wife." He added. "Do they know what you are?" Wrath paused a moment before answering.

"So what if they did. Would it change anything? Would it alter their opinions or perceptions of me. Possibly. Either way, it doesn't matter. Next."

Ed felt a sadness rise in him, just a little, at his next question. "Do you even care about them, you're family, that is?"

"You know, I've found myself rather attached to my little family, if I'm being honest with you. I would certainly be angry if any harm were to befall them, so I suppose my answer is yes. I do care for my family."

Well, at least that was something, Ed thought. The monster cares after all. Monster. Hey, that reminded him...

"So, what special, horrifying powers to you possess, oh Great Leader?" The Fuhrer smiled, his green eyes - eye, the other eye had no pupil, just the red mark of the Ouroboras -narrowing.

"While I may not have abilities like Lust's Ultimate Spear or Envy's shape shifting abilities, I have something rather...unique. My Ultimate Eye."

"Kay...what can that do?"

"I can detect every move you make... before you make it. How do you think I managed to dodge bullets on the battlefield with such ease as I did?"

The corners of Ed's mouth quirked. "I take it that'd make you pretty hard to fight, huh?"

"Indeed, I've never lost a fight." Edward had to fight to keep the smile on his face, though he knew it likely didn't hide the sheer terror he faced at the prospect of ever having to go up against Wrath if he were to try and escape. A silence followed, and then the Fuhrer said, "Well, I must take my leave. Goodbye, Fullmetal." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Wrath looked over his shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Just let me ask this one thing." He said, not pausing to see if the Homunculus would allow it. "You say you care about your family. But what about your country? There are thousands of people who look up to you and love you as their leader. Do you...do you care about them? At all?"

The Fuhrer paused, too a breath, and bore his eyes into Ed's. "Not even a little." He said, and left. Ed deflated. He had hoped, hoped that stupid, ridiculous hope, that even though he was a Homunculus, maybe he did care even a little bit for the people he ruled. It was stupid to think that he might. He ignored Envy's sadistic grin, pressing his lips tightly together. He would not say anything else.

"Aww, what's wrong pipsqueak? Sad that your leader doesn't care about his people?" Envy put on a false pout, and it was all Ed could do to keep from snarling. "Now...where were we?" Envy pretended to think for a moment. "Oh yeah! I was going to tell you that Lust will be paying a visit as soon as she finishes her current...assignment. In fact, she should be here any minute now."

Ed blanched at the prospect of Lust showing up to this little party, but tried to put on a mask of indifference. Showing his fear would get him nowhere in this place, except to make Envy even more pleased with himself than he already was. Though Lust, true to Envy's word, showed up not long later. She entered somewhat dramatically, creaking the door open slowly, as if to increase Ed's tension. His body was wound up as tightly as a clock, his breaths coming short. He couldn't take in enough oxygen, his lungs wouldn't fill. Envy's maniac grin had the Homunculi's words repeating themselves in Edward's head, '"but that's more Lust's idea of fun.'" All the colour drained from his face as Lust emerged, and Ed's gaze went straight to the blood spattered on her hands. He was pretty sure he knew what her 'assignment' might have been.

She grinned at him, and he forgot how to breathe. There was a look in her eyes, a completely terrifying gleam in those violet eyes that sent shudders down his spine. '"That's more Lust's idea of fun.'" He glanced sidelong at Envy, whose malicious excitement was written all over his face, accentuated by his eager body language. A thought struck him.

They had planned this.

He swallowed as Lust approached.

'"Lust's idea of fun.'"

She glanced at Envy, who nodded to her, and said,

"Break him."


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falling in the black  
> Slipping through the cracks  
> Falling to the depths can I ever go back  
> Dreaming of the way it used to be  
> Can you hear me?  
> Falling in the black  
> Slipping through the cracks  
> Falling to the depths can I ever go back  
> Falling inside the black  
> Falling inside, falling inside the black
> 
> ~Falling Inside The Black (Skillet)

Six.

That was how many days it had been since Edward Elric had disappeared.

And Riza Hawkeye blamed herself.

Well, she supposed, not quite. She was certainly not guiltless at her inability to find the boy, but she wasn't exactly to blame for his disappearance, either. Personally, though she hadn't voiced this particular thought, she blamed Mustang. She wasn't sure what had gone on between the two of them that day at the warehouse, but she certainly had her suspicions. And not one of them was one that she liked.

She was currently sitting at her desk in Mustang's office, trying desperately not to think about how deeply Mustang was in shit with the Fuhrer for losing track of Ed, and how much more shit he'd be in if the child wasn't found. Though Riza suspected that Fuhrer Bradley didn't actually care all the that much about Ed's well-being, and more that Mustang had disobeyed orders by letting Ed run off, only to disappear.

It frustrated Riza to no end that they hadn't been able to track down where Edward had gone. Mustang, Hohenheim and herself had combed the area once they realised that Edward was gone, but not one of them had turned up anything. She cursed herself for not following the boy straight out, but Mustang had told her to give him space, and when she'd moved to follow anyway he'd actually ordered her to stay put. She'd been shocked enough by the action alone that she had listened, had gone against her gut. She'd followed the order for all of seven minutes before she disregarded her superior completely and went outside.

She should have done it sooner. Should never have listened in the first place.

It was unclear whether or not Edward had run off of his own free will or if someone had taken him, but the three of them were of the agreement that someone had snatched him. Not only was Edward unlikely to risk being caught and shipped off to a lab, as the Fuhrer had promised he would be if he didn't stay with Mustang, but after what had happened the last time he'd stormed off...

No, Edward would have shoved his pride down and stayed. This was definitely outside work.

Mustang suspected one of the Homunculi, and no one disagreed. By this point the whole of Mustang's inner staff had been made aware of the Homunculi, what they were and the threat that they posed. The problem was that Mustang didn't want that information to be known to anyone outside his direct circle of trust. Which made preparing the resources to find them rather difficult.

Yes, Hohenheim knew where their lair was, and had informed them all. But he'd also informed them

of how much of a maze that place was. They could get lost down there for weeks and never find their way out. They had no way of mapping the area down there, not without being killed.

She rubbed her eyes. God, she was tired. She'd barely gotten a wink of sleep since the moment she'd first realised Edward was gone. Over the course of six days she'd pulled three all-nighters, with only a few hours of sleep in between. She was thoroughly exhausted. But she couldn't let that stop her, not now. Not when Edward could be in danger, could be hurt...

She stopped that train of thought before it could properly begin. Worrying over Edward would only hinder her in her search to find him, so she had to shove all thoughts of him that weren't relevant to the bottom of her mind. She could sort through all that once Edward was safe.

They'd already had a team search the area where Edward had gone missing, but they'd found nothing. Nothing except the large patch of blood where Edward had apparently spent a fair amount of time coughing up his lungs. Apparently droplets followed that patch and then abruptly stopped.

So did Hawkeye.

She furrowed her brows, thinking.

If Edward had been coughing when he'd been taken, likely the only scenario in which Edward would have his guard down enough to be snuck up on (there had been no signs of struggle, which suggested he hadn't seen his napper coming), then that could mean there might be more droplets, a trail to follow.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. She called for Havoc to get a car, then called for Mustang and Hohenheim, who were currently in Mustang's inner office. She left the rest of the team to their work. If her theory was correct and there was indeed a potential trail to follow, she didn't want any of them in the way. Fuery and Falman weren't fighters, and Breda was too would slow them down if running became involved, which she figured it most certainly would - the man was just too unfit.

So it was down to the four of them, then. Havoc, Hawkeye, Hohenheim and Mustang. Two gunmen and two alchemists.

The car ride from Headquarters to Mustang's warehouse was entirely silent, save for Hawkeye explaining what they were doing and why. When they arrived, the first thing they did was head straight to the patch of blood. It was under a small grove of trees roughly a hundred yards from the warehouse, and the search hadn't really expanded too far beyond it for some reason. She hunched down, examining the spot in the grass where the blood had stained the most. It was a fairly large area; it must have hurt like Hell coughing it all up. She turned her attention to the grass surrounding the stain, her eyes scanning until they found what she was looking for - another spot.

She shuffled over, still crouching, the four of them entirely silent. This was a mere spec of blood, only staining one individual blade of grass, but it was enough - enough to give them a direction to search in. The small trail ended a meter or so later, and she shoved down the rising fear that she had been wrong.

"Hawkeye, look." Mustang. He pointed in the direction the miniature trail had lead, some ways past where it had ended. It was almost impossible to see, but there it was, another stain in the grass.

The three of them waited until she'd spotted it and was heading towards it before following her. It seemed her superior was letting her take over. Perhaps he understood that his mistake had led to this and didn't want to make another one, or perhaps he understood that no order he could make would be listened to her anymore, not by her. Not after this. A week. It had almost been a week.

Once she'd seen it, she almost couldn't believe she'd missed it. It was so obviously there once pointed out. Idiots! She thought. Stupid, incompetent idiots! This stain, and the steady stream of bloodstains that followed it, was much larger. There was no way this had come from Edward's mouth, which meant...

He was injured.

She swore viciously, and her companions were wise enough to do no more than blink.

Silently, the followed the long, bloody trail, as it led them around the outskirts of the city. There was no way Edward stayed conscious the whole time, he would have passed out from blood loss. As they drew nearer to the inside of the city the trail, which had been very clear and direct up until this point, suddenly veered to the right, seemingly heading the opposite direction from where it originally appeared to be headed. She frowned, following, and realised that the trail continued to make bizarre, seemingly pointless turns until the trail flickered to an end. Whatever wound Edward had must have finally clotted up.

She lead the others back to where the trail had first started going weird, and there they stopped.

"Whoever has him must have realised he was leaving a trail." She mused aloud.

"And tried to confused us by leading us off course." Mustang added.

"Must be a real idiot, then." Havoc said. "The changes are so obviously intended to confuse us that all it's done is clear it up for us."

"So wherever we need to go must be somewhere around here." Hohenheim murmured, a hand on his chin. "Mustang, you believe the Homunculi most likely to have grabbed Edward to be the one by the name of Envy, correct?"

"Yes." Mustang confirmed. "He was the one who kidnapped Edward last time. And he was there during Ed's time in the laboratory. He was also the one who k-" Roy stopped himself before he could say the words, and Riza knew it wasn't for the need to to hide the information but to keep himself from having to hear the words. "The one responsible." Was all he could manage, but they all knew what he meant anyway.

"Well, in the few times I've had the misfortune of meeting Envy, I've observed that he's extremely arrogant and cocky. The likelihood is he wouldn't have checked to see what Ed was doing until he was just about to enter the place, which means that if he only noticed it here then the entrance must be very, very close by." The four of them settled into an uneasy silence as they scattered, looking for anything that might serve as an entrance to an underground lair.

It was Havoc who found it. An abandoned house practically right beside where the trail had gone wonky had a set of doors that served as an outside entrance to what one would assume was a basement - only it wasn't a basement. Underneath the house was a large tunnel that lead them in the direction of the inner city, on an almost imperceptible slope downwards. Riza continued to lead the small party, fully loaded handgun at the ready, another set strapped to each hip. In almost every pocket she carried cases of extra ammo, and both her boots held a tiny pistol, also fully loaded. Hidden up both her sleeves were a push knife, and holstered from her right hip was a shotgun.

She was armed to the teeth, ready to kill whatever stood in her way. Havoc was similarly armed, she knew, as he brought up the rear, ready to defend them from whatever might be foolish enough to try and sneak up behind them.

The two alchemists kept in the middle, both of them silent. She didn't know the extent of Hohenheim's alchemical abilities - all she knew was that he was powerful and deadly, hopefully enough so as to kill the Homunculi who held his son captive.

She wondered at Ed's last words to them - or rather, to Hohenheim - that day. "I'm not your son! You lost the right to call yourself my father the moment you walked out that door and didn't come back." He had never actually told any of them the extent of why he refused to ever talk about his father, only that he hated the man. She supposed she now knew why. She wanted to ask Hohenheim why he had left his children and their mother, but she kept her questions to herself. Edward and Alphonse deserved to know the answer to that before she did.

A growling noise from above pulled her from her thoughts, and instantly her gun was trained on the source of the noise. Up above them all was a massive grate encompassed the entire roof, from here to as far as she could see. It worked as a secondary floor, and what was standing on it...

Chimeras. Dozens of them, all snarling and growling at them.

A few moments later, the ground rumbled, and then ceased.

"They're his watchdogs." Hohenheim said gravely.

"Do we want to know whose?" Havoc asked.

"I think you already do." He responded, and Hawkeye suppressed a shudder. This figure the Homunculi called 'Father'.

"Does he know we're here?" Mustang asked.

"Most likely." The other alchemist answered.

"Damn." Her superior hissed. Then he took a breath, and snapped his fingers. Fire shot from them, going from a flame to an inferno the rose above them, above the grates, latching onto the horrible creatures and burning them to cinders. She just wished it had killed them fast enough to keep them from that horrible screaming. The inferno above them raced down the length of the grate, searching for more chimera to kill, and when no more screaming could be heard, Mustang let the flames die. Hawkeye wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow, as did the others, and they continued on.

They walked for what felt like eternity before anything actually crossed their path.

And, of course, it had to be Envy.

The moment he turned the corner and stopped, seeing them instantly, she put three bullets in his head. One in the forehead and one in each eye. He swore almost as colourfully as she had as his body instantly began to regenerate, but before he could do much, there was Mustang, practically shoving her out of the way, snapping his fingers, once, twice, thrice. Not giving the Homunculus a single moment. A single inch.

"Go." He said, and there was a darkness in his voice she did not like one bit. She wanted to stay back, wanted to help him. Wanted to stay and try to keep the darkness rising in his eyes from engulfing him completely. She opened her mouth but he didn't let her speak. "Edward is down here somewhere, Lieutenant." He said, and nodded. Roy could take care of himself. She needed to find help.

Casting him one last glance, she let her eyes convey the words he wouldn't let her speak. He gave her a small smile, even as he snapped his fingers again and Envy began to scream, and she knew he'd understood. But I can't promise what you want. The darkness in those onyx eyes fell for just a moment, but then he turned his complete attention to the Homunculus before them, and it was like it had never gone away.

She prayed, even as she jogged away, the other gunman and alchemist in tow, that the Colonel she came back to was the same one that she left.

She dodged Envy's writhing form on the ground and sprinted.

She didn't turn back to see if the other two were keeping up as she ran like her life depended on it. There were likely more Homunculi on the way - even with the whistling in her ears she could still hear Envy's screeching as Mustang burned him alive again and again, and she knew they could hear it too. They ran for all of a minute before two directional options were presented to them, and without words she ordered Havoc and Hohenheim down the path to their right, and she took the path to her left. Had anyone asked her why she chose the left path, she would tell them there was no reason.

She would admit to no one that there seemed to be something telling her to go that way. Something rooted deep down in her that just knew that that was the way she had to go, that Edward was down here, he was this way.

She didn't understand yet why that instinct inside her told her to go alone.

But alone she went, down corridor after corridor, passing door after door. She didn't open a single one of them, because she somehow knew that they were not the door she needed. Perhaps the God she'd never believed in was showing her the way, or perhaps it was something else entirely. She wasn't fully sure she wanted to know.

As she turned another corner she was met with two snarling beats that launched themselves at her. She shot the first one between the eyes and it fell to the ground mid-leap, but she wasn't fast enough to dodge the second one. It latched onto her, all claws and teeth, and she went down, grappling blindly with the creature, her gun flying from her hand.

By some miracle, she managed to free her right hand for long enough to flick down one of her push knives, and as she stabbed it into the creature's eye and it shrieked she silently thanked Hughes for the hours he'd spent teaching her to use them. She stabbed it again in the other eye and it screeched again, flailing. She pushed it off her and leaped to her feet, snatching her gun from where it had fallen, and put the thing out of it's misery.

Her heart racing from a combination of adrenaline and terror, she ran on, following that strange sixth sense that was guiding her. She was prepared this time for the third creature that tried to kill her, and she ended it with her last bullet before it had even properly seen her.

Deciding it was too risky to be caught reloading if something else leaped out at her, she yanked one of her other handguns out of it's holster and shoved the empty one in.

That sense was getting stronger now - her chest went tight as she turned another corner and beheld the door, where she knew Edward was on the other side.

./././././././././

Ed hung limply from his restraints, the energy to try and escape long since passed. His breathing was shallow, the rise and fall of his chest pathetically small. His eyes were open but for the most part unseeing, taking in nothing of his drab surroundings. The front of his shirt was shredded, leaving his chest and stomach open to the cold. His pants sat loosely over his hips, the belt that usually kept them up undone and hanging from the loops that kept it from falling. He was cold, so cold, yet his face was flushed and warm from the beginnings of illness. The wounds on his arm had thankfully not become infected, and were mostly scanned over, but they still caused him pain.

It had been several days at minimum since he'd been captured by Envy and learned that his Fuhrer was not human. Several days for which he'd been helpless to the ministrations of the Homunculus, Lust.

He felt disgusting.

It was a familiar feeling, one he'd hoped never to have to feel again. He'd hoped beyond hope that his time in the underground lab would be the last time he'd ever have to experience something like this, have to feel like he was so completely filthy and unclean. Of course, nobody cared about his hopes, did they?

Lust visited him several times a day, and she always left him feeling his skin would shrivel up and die. Even when she wasn't there he could still feel the phantom touches of her fingers on his skin. It left him flushed and shivering, feeling like nothing more than carrion for the vultures to pick clean as they pleased. Before his time here, he'd never realised women could be cruel in the same ways as men. His society has always painted women as the victims, men the abusers. It'd never occurred to him before it could be the other way around, too.

He'd fought, at the start, not that he was capable of much chained to a roof, but damn him to Hell if he hadn't tried. He'd head butted and thrashed and, when that failed, screamed, but nothing he could have done had been able to stop her claws from tearing up his shirt, or her hands running down his chest, his stomach, down...down...

She'd done things to him that had made him ashamed of himself, when his body reacted against the wishes of his mind. She'd done things to him that had left him reeling, mind and body, and then when she was done she left without a word, left him to hang there in shame and disgust. She was a cruel thing, that Lust, and each time she left he prayed, prayed to God, Truth, to whoever it was that was out there that she would forget him or grow bored or be sent away or something, anything that would keep her away from him for the rest of his miserable life, however much of it he had left in this horrible world.

But return she did, and each time she returned she stripped I him of another part of himself, tore away another piece of his soul. He knew he could not take much more of this. He knew it was going to kill him. One way or another, her cruelty would kill him.

When she entered the room again, he felt a tear slide down his face. She smiled at him, a pretence of innocence that lasted little more than a second before giving way to the darkness that lay beneath. She a monster, in every since of the word, and she had broken him.

She stalked closer, slowly, teasing him, letting the fear heighten before the show had even begun. He flinched when her ice cold fingers touched his skin. Her palms pressed against his chest, pushing him back as far as the chains would allow. He whimpered as one trailed upwards, cupping the side of his face in her hand, while the other one went down, down, below the belt, taking him up in her nasty grip.

Her violet eyes bore into his golden ones, now drained of any life they might have once held. He wanted to close his eyes and never open them again. Wanted to tumble into an abyss of blackness he would never awaken from. But she had him locked in her gaze, and he could not make his body comply with the will of his mind. It was absolute Hell. Pure, unadulterated Hell.

A noise faintly like buzzing played at his ears as her hands began to move, sending wild sensations running through him that he could not suppress. Shivers ran up and down his spine and his skin prickled, becoming hypersensitive within a minute. Her ministrations continued further until he began to whine, his back arching into her touch.

When she had first done this to him he had fought it all he could, to the point of having it become painful. But she had wore him down, and now there was nothing left of him. He didn't have the energy to fight it any more, to fight her. He was exhausted, body, mind and soul, and there was nowhere left in him that had the willpower to harbour any more rebellion. So he hung there and took it, leaving his body to her while his mind hid within the darkest corners of itself. He'd tried to create a paradise to hide in when he'd first given up, tried to hide somewhere nice in his own mind, but he'd quickly discovered it was easier to just give in to the despair and let his physche go where it pleased.

It never had anywhere nice to go, though.

He was torn from the darkness by a sound.

There was a sound so faint he wasn't sure it was real. It was in the distance, something akin to rocks bashing against each other. He listened, and there it was again. Hope...there was no hope, even just a few days in this place had beaten it right out of him in a way that even the laboratory hadn't managed. This wasn't hope, but at best it was curiosity.

He left Lust to the ruin of his body and focused on the sounds. Added to the sounds of crumbling rock where the sound of explosions, and with those explosions, voices.

He couldn't pinpoint whose they were, but he had a pretty good guess as to who they might belong to.

Lust payed them no mind. Maybe she was so focused on destroying him that she didn't notice him, or maybe she simply didn't care. Either way, she continued on without pause, squeezing and pulling and clawing and hurting.

Gunshots rang out, and his chest tightened. Hawkeye. And those explosions - Mustang. By some miracle, they'd tracked him down. But Ed knew how maze-like this place was. They could search for hours and still not find him, even if the Homunculi down here left them alone. Which, by the sound of it, they weren't.

Lust was using her nails now, little versions of those spears that she used to rake down his abdomen. He could hear running footsteps, drawing closer and closer. The desire not to be seen like this overwhelmed him. He couldn't be seen like this, there had to be something else, anything else. He glanced down at those claws raking the left side of his stomach, and without putting any further thought into it, he thrust his hips, shoving his body forward, and screamed as those spears cut through him.

./././././././././

Riza heard Edward scream as she reached for the door handle and, caution thrown to the wind, she yanked it down, shoving herself headlong through the door -

And stopped.


	32. Chapter Thirty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight.  
> Don't you dare look at him in the eye, as we dance with the devil tonight
> 
> ~ Dance With The Devil (Breaking Benjamin)

She saw the Homunculus first. The shapely woman was standing with her back to Riza. Her long black dress, wavy black hair and shapely figure Riza recognised as Ed's description of Lust. Riza allowed herself a moment to look past the Homunculus at the child behind her.

His shirt was torn to shreds, and a few small bruises marred his body. His skin was pale. Her eyes went to his flushed face, and she saw his golden eyes were alight with pain. His hair was mussed, he was groaning, and she realised with horror that the Homunculus' spear-like nails were embedded in his lower left abdomen. He groaned again, whimpering as he swayed from the chains that must be the only thing keeping him upright, his wounds leaking crimson.

She processed all of this in a second and made to shout for Lust's attention when she noticed the one thing that could make her falter.

The Homunculi's left hand.

Down Edward's pants.

The world stopped. And started. And stopped again.

Her blood roared and she might have roared with it, and the next thing she knew she was emptying her clip into Lust's back.

The despicable shouted with surprise and turned to her, roughly yanking her long nails out of Edward's side. Ed screamed in his throat and sagged, but Riza had to focus on the Homunculus now. She forced herself to block out Ed's pained sounds.

She grabbed another clip and reloaded her handgun as Lust smiled at her, ceasing her horrific ministrations on Ed's young body. Red tainted Riza's vision as the Homunculus licked some of the blood from her nails and grinned at her, a toothy thing that set Riza on edge.

"Well, I suppose you think you're here to rescue him, don't you?" Lust drawled. Riza responded by once again emptying the clip of her gun into the woman's head.

It may not of killed her, but it sent the woman staggering, giving the sharpshooter time to reload this particular gun's last clip of ammo. She tossed the empty cartridge and kept firing until the gun was empty, tossed that too, then grabbed another one. This time she emptied most of the clip into the Ouroboras tattoo on the woman's chest, purely because the image of it was sending her wild, and she blinked when she realised it was having a stronger effect the shooting the head. Lust was gasping now, but the stupid smirk never left her face.

"You can't kill me you know." She said even as her body regenerated. "Bullets can't hurt me, not really." Edward mumbled something Riza didn't hear, but whatever he'd said Lust hadn't liked, because she slapped him on the face and told him to shut his mouth. He mumbled again, and as Lust turned her back to Riza once more the First Lieutenant realised that Edward was trying to talk to her.

Lust threatened to cut out his tongue if he didn't stop talking, and Ed stayed silent for a moment, before drawing his breath quickly and roaring. "THE CIRCLES ON HER HANDS! SHOOT THEM! IT'LL IMMOBILI-" Ed was cut off by a vicious swipe of talons over his chest, and though Riza could see that the wounds wouldn't kill him, that action combined with Ed's words sent Riza into the killing calm.

Her breathing slowed, her mind cleared.

And she aimed.

Fired.

The Homunculus screamed as a bullet shot into each of her hands, Hawkeye's aim perfect and precise - the bullets going right through the circles on her gloves and embedding themselves in her flesh. She stopped moving, as though she no longer had the ability to. Edward was right, she had been rendered completely immobile - by two bullets.

Riza calmly slid the handgun back into it's holster and picked up the shotgun. Lust's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she didn't degrade herself by asking for mercy as Riza shot her in the heart.

Lust went down, and Riza stalked closer, slipping another shell into the bullet chamber. She fired again, and realised Lust was no longer regenerating. She still wasn't dying, either, though. She emptied another three shells into the woman's chest, Lust making no more than a grunt at the impact of each one. The was now a large hole in her flesh, and Riza could see something red and shiny glinting inside.

"It's her Philosopher's Stone." Ed rasped, as though this was the first time he'd used his voice for days. "If you take it out of her in this state, it'll kill her."

"Won't her body just regenerate around the stone?" Riza asked. Ed shook his head.

"It's energy is all used up. You hurt her before, but now..." He nodded to the bullets in her hands, and then back at the gaping hole in the woman's chest, still moving up and down as she attempted to draw breath. "Now the Stone's so weak all it can do is keep her alive. Take it out of her chest; she'll die." Riza nodded even as she shuddered, and reached down.

"Wait." Lust wheezed.

"What?" Riza said, her voice hard like stone. Lust turned her head and looked up at Edward, still hanging above her.

"How did...you know?"

The corner of Ed's mouth twitched so slightly upwards the Riza wasn't sure it even had, but he said simply, "I've had nothing to do here but think. It wasn't hard." Lust only nodded, nothing more than a faint smile now touching her lips. She said nothing else, even as Riza reached into her chest and ripped her life force from her body.

Her body turned to dust that floated away on a non-existent wind, swirling around the small cell until it disappeared out of the air for good.

The Stone she held in her hand followed soon after.

././././././

Mustang snarled as he snapped his fingers again, and Envy screamed as flame engulfed him.

Mustang didn't know how long he'd been standing here, snapping his fingers, waiting for the Homunculus to stop dying and actually die. Hatred fueled him - pure, unadulterated hatred that drove him to snap his fingers, again and again and again. Envy was screaming, screeching, like the pathetic worm he was, and it was music to Mustang's ears. He reveled in it, and it was almost enough to make him smile.

Almost.

The scum tried to use his voice, and Mustang burned his tongue right out of his mouth. Envy screamed, choking on the bubbling hot liquid that was the remainder of his tongue before the thing re-grew in his mouth again.

"You human scum!" Envy gasped, and Roy narrowed his eyes. "You'll pay for this!"

"You've got it the wrong way around, Envy." Roy said as he snapped his fingers once more. The Homunculus screamed as his eyeballs melted in their sockets. "This is you paying for what you did to Hughes!" His friend's name came out as a shout, and soon Envy was screaming again.

"Come on Envy! Is this all you've got? You're pathetic!" Mustang taunted him. This was too easy. He needed it to be harder for the Homunculus. He wanted to hunt it. He wanted Envy to run and hide and tremble in fear as Mustang caught up to him.

So he stopped, and waited, as Envy's exhausted body slowly healed itself. It was almost sad, how quickly Roy had managed to drain and deplete the Stone that was Envy's core. Already it was losing it's power, taking longer and longer to heal itself.

He watched with contempt as Envy panted for breath and, with obvious effort, began to stand. He got to his feet on shaky legs, and made to lunge at Roy. Mustang simply lowered his head and raised his eyes, and the look was all it took to send the Homunculus in the other direction. Envy ran, fast and hard, until he was out of Roy's sight. He was a coward, Roy realised. He'd rather run and save his own hide than finish what he started and face Roy head on.

He was playing right into Mustang's hands.

Mustang gave him a few seconds, and then the chase began.

././././././././

Envy ran, panting. Runrunrunrunrun, his brain screamed at him, leaving no room for disagreement. His gait was uneven and he felt like he wasn't going fast enough, even though he couldn't push his body any harder even if he tried. His body was failing him. Worse, it was dying, and he knew it.

He could feel his Philosopher's Stone working on overdrive just to keep him alive. That stupid Flame Colonel was killing him.

So he ran.

He didn't care about honour, he never had. He didn't care about finishing what he started. He didn't care about dignity, not anymore. Now all he cared about was keeping himself alive. The Colonel had let him run, had wanted him to. The damn bastard wanted to hunt him like an animal.

It should be the other way around, dammit! I should be the one hunting him! Yet here he was, running for his life, because he had vastly underestimated the raw power the the Alchemist possessed. He'd underestimated the Colonel, and now the damned human was going to kill him.

He'd taunted the Colonel, after he'd dismissed his Lieutenant and the other two. When they were long gone and the Colonel was no longer ensuring they made it past him. Envy had been foolish, so incredibly foolish, to start talking about the man, Maes Hughes. The man he'd killed because he was getting too close.

Looking back over his shoulder and seeing nothing, he realised that that mistake was the dirt on the grave he'd dug for himself when he'd killed the best friend of one of the most powerful alchemists to ever live. Killing Hughes had dug the grave. And taunting Mustang ensured it would be filled.

Stupid. So completely, utterly stupid. Envy had never expected the Stone to run out of power so quickly, so easily. It was like the damn thing wanted to kill him, but that was absurd. The souls inside were nothing more than mindless energy now.

He ducked around corner after corner, completely at random at first, but then he realised he was steadily getting closer to the center, where he could hide behind the sheer power of his Father. He grinned, pushing himself more than he thought was physically possible. If he could, he would have shifted into something faster by now, but he didn't have the energy. If he tried to shape shift now, he'd expend the little power the Stone had left and kill himself. He was stuck in this form, at least until Mustang burned it away.

He squinted as he noticed a thin trail of orange up ahead, skittering around like a tiny snake looking for lunch. He'd gone too far down this corridor to turn back now, unless he wanted to risk running into Mustang, so he'd have to brave whatever that little snake thing was that was guarding the next corner.

As he drew ever closer, he realised it was fire. A thin tendril of flame licking about, as if in search of something. He jumped over it.

Well, he tried to.

The moment his tired body jumped over, that tiny lick of flame roared to life in an instant, engulfing him completely. He fell mid-jump and collided harshly with the floor, screaming as the flames twisted over him, burning him again. He writhed in agony until the flames suddenly ceased.

He forced his head to look up, and he was met with the sight of Roy Mustang, looking down on him like he was the most pathetic thing in the world. Envy said nothing, did nothing but pant in pain and exhaustion, as he waited for Mustang to deliver the final blow that would destroy this body beyond repair permanently.

He didn't have to wait long.

././././././././././

Mustang clicked his fingers, and Envy didn't even have the energy to scream as the Homunculus' body began to disintegrate. Mustang loosed a breath, and then frowned as something began to crawl it's way slowly out of Envy's skull. It was green and ugly, with eight little legs, a long tail, a gaping, toothy mouth that stretched down to it's belly and two big, purple eyes on each side of it's face. It plopped to the ground with a squelch just as the remainder of Envy's body blew away in some breeze.

As it gasped at the impact of it's fall Mustang realised that Envy still wasn't dead. The Homunculus was still alive, but barely, and the form of this...worm, was all he could manage to stay within the world of the living.

It really was pathetic.

Especially as it started to crawl away desperately, probably hoping that Mustang hadn't connected the dots.

Snarling, he stepped forward scooped up the thing with his hand, and Envy squealed and thrashed in a vain attempt to free himself, and when that didn't work he opened up his mouth and sank his teeth into Mustang's hand.

"Argh!" Mustang winced and snarled but didn't let go. Instead he shook his hand rapidly until the tiny teeth relinquished their hold on him. He held up his hand to his face until the dizzy Homunculus was eye level with him. Envy squeaked at whatever it was he saw in Mustang's eyes.

"So." Mustang said. "After all you've done. All the horrors you've caused the pain you've inflicted and the people you've killed, in the end you're nothing but a worm. A useless, pathetic worm who can't even manage to stay alive."

Envy looked at him then, really looked at him, and the damn Homunculus had the gall to smile at him.

"What's so funny, Homunculus?" Mustang demanded, squeezing him a little.

"I may just be a worm, alchemist. But this little worm ruined you." Envy's squeaky voice said.

"What does that mean?" He snarled, but Envy didn't say another word. Mustang roared, roared and screamed and threw the Homunculus to the ground so hard he bounced, and then he snapped his fingers and Envy was engulfed in flame, flame that raged on long enough that when it finally died down, there was nothing left of Envy. Not even ash. 

Not even the Stone.


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all gone cold...  
> There's nothing left to gain  
> It's all so wrong...  
> But who am I, who am I to say?  
> To say
> 
> ~ Cold (Five Finger Death Punch)

Ed limped along the endless corridors, one arm slung around Hawkeye's shoulders, the other wrapped around himself. Everything hurt. Hawkeye had stripped him of what remained of his shirt and used it to wrap the four punctures in his side, if nothing else but to staunch the flow of blood. Every step he took the small wounds screamed at him, but he gritted his teeth and tried to push through the pain. He had to get Hawkeye out of here before she got hurt.

The four slashes across his chest stung like Hell, but weren't deep enough to cause any permanent damage beyond scarring. His entire body was mottled with painful bruises, and his wrists ached from the chains that had held him upright for so long. Really, he was fine.

He knew Riza had seen...that. Seen what Lust had been doing to him - despite his attempt to distract her from it - but she had yet to bring it up, and for that he was eternally grateful. He never wanted to think about what had happened to him down here ever again, much less talk about it. The moment she'd freed him from the chains that bound him he'd collapsed, but once she'd helped him back to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him steady, she'd turned her head away so that he could do up his zipper and buckle his belt. As much as he hated that he needed help to do something as simple as stand, he'd rather let her hold him up if it meant she would't ask about Lust.

As they limped along, Hawkeye brought him up to speed on what had happened in his absence; a whole lot of jack shit. Up until they'd tracked him down, apparently nothing had happened. Everything was quiet. No sign of the Homunculi anywhere. At least not until they had ventured down here and encountered Envy.

Riza had been visibly shocked when he told her that Fuhrer Bradley was a Homunculus. She'd sworn viciously under her breath, then schooled herself into practicality. They moved in silence for a short while, and she'd just drawn in a breath, likely to ask him something, when a sudden explosion shook the ground and they swayed, clinging to each other in an attempt to stay balanced. They both swore, then looked at each other. Ed shrugged, and she frowned at him.

"I'm fine." He grunted. Her frown only deepened, indecision written all over her face. "Really, I'm fine. We should check that out. You said Mustang and Havoc were here?" She'd also mentioned Hohenheim's presence, but he didn't care enough about that man (beyond how much he hated him) to warrant mentioning him. She nodded, eyes full of worry. "One or both of them could be down there. They may need help."

This seemed to convince her, because she nodded. They changed course and headed towards the explosion, and he tried his best to ignore the worried glances she kept sending him. He let her guide him, and fell into thought for a few moments.

Despite all the crap Mustang had put him through, Edward still didn't like the idea of the man in danger on his own. Logically, he knew that the Flame Alchemist's fire would prove to be quite the challenge for Envy, and that Mustang's own anger and hatred would probably give the man an edge, but that didn't stop Ed from worrying all the same. Envy played dirty.

Then there was Havoc, who'd gone off with Hohenheim to who-knows-where down here. Edward really hoped that Havoc wasn't anywhere near that explosion. Despite being accompanied by Hohenheim, who was certainly far from helpless, the man possessed no alchemy of his own, and would struggle if faced with a one-on-one fight against a Homunculus.

Then again, he thought, Hawkeye had managed to kill Lust without alchemy, just a shit-ton of bullets.

They traversed the corridors, and more explosions guided them. As they got closer the ground began to shake more violently, and Ed began to worry more. He could hear shouting now, and bullets. Havoc was definitely in there. There was also the unmistakable smell of alchemy, like burning rope and short-circuiting wires. He realised that the alchemy was the source of the explosions. Mustang, maybe. Him or Hohenheim. There was definitely some sort of battle going on. He forced himself to move faster, and Hawkeye moved along with him.

They reached an open entryway, and the both of them were frozen in shock.

Ed's eyes caught first on Mustang, who was snapping his fingers madly, flame exploding around him, trying to keep up with an unknown target. Off to his left a little was Havoc, kneeling on the ground, aiming his shotgun and firing seemingly at random. Ed followed the path of the bullets and realised they were being deflected by some sort of barrier. He wasn't sure if Havoc had noticed it, but it was there, and none of the man's shots were going through.

But what was he and Mustang trying to hit?

Lastly, his gaze focused on Hohenheim.

Both of them.

Edward blinked and did a double take, but yes, there were two Hohenheim's, alchemy-ing it off, trying to outmatch each other. It was their alchemy that was causing the ground to shake, because they were both manipulating the ground below them, using it as weapons and shields. Ed determined that the Hohenheim furthest from Mustang was the real one, because he was wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the day Envy snatched Edward. The Hohenheim closest to Mustang was wearing long, white robes. Ed also realised that his long hair and beard was slightly paler.

"Go tell Havoc to save his bullets." Ed told Hawkeye, his voice sounding gravelly. "Fake-Hohenheim has some sort of alchemy barrier around himself that's deflecting his shots."

"What the Hell is he?" Hawkeye responded, not letting go of Ed.

"Well he's definitely not like the other Homunculi; they can't use alchemy. I'd say he's their 'father', the one that created them." Riza nodded, still in shock. He freed himself from her hold and tapped her on the face, bringing her to attention. "Hey. Did you hear what I said? About Havoc's bullets?" She confirmed that she had. "Good. Go tell him, I'll be fine. I swear. I'm gonna try and figure out a way to help Mustang and Hohenheim. Maybe get rid of that barrier. Until then save your bullets!"

They separated, Hawkeye running to Havoc and Edward running to Mustang. He staggered across the destroyed ground, doing his best to ignore the agonizing pain his wounds were causing him. By some miracle, he made it across the enormous room without being spotted by that Father guy. "Mustang!" He called, gaining the older man's attention. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"No damn clue!" Mustang said as Edward finally reached him. The Colonel didn't stop snapping his fingers at Father, even as he looked at Ed and gasped, taking in all the injuries and bruises Edward sported. "Holy shit, what the fuck happened to you?"

Ed scoffed. "What didn't?" He tried for a joke, Mustang didn't laugh. He sighed. "So what happened with Envy?"

"Torched him. Nothing left but ashes now."

"Good. But how did you get here?"

"I followed the explosions here and joined Havoc and your father in the fight." Mustang explained. Same as Hawkeye and himself, then. "Do you know who that clone of Hohenheim is?"

"At a guess, I'd say he's the one who created the Homunculi." Ed said.

"Holy crap." Mustang breathed.

"Yeah. We need to take him down. I'm gonna set a trap for him. Don't -"

"SHIT!" Mustang shouted, body-slamming into him and knocking them both to the ground a few feet over, just in time for the both of them to avoid being pancaked by a massive chunk of earth that came flying at them. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and he gasped and tried not to scream as every wound on his body flared up in agony.

Vaguely he heard Mustang pick himself up off the ground and curse, grabbing Ed's shoulders and sitting him upright. "Fuck, Ed, you alright?"

"Damn peachy." Ed muttered as a cough racked him. Mustang dragged him behind a fallen pillar (Ed had no idea where the fuck it had come from before he noticed the telltale signs of alchemy) as he hacked up his lungs until blood coated his lips.

"Shit, Ed, we need to get you out of here." Mustang said.

"I'm fine." Ed said, coughing one last time. He really wasn't. Everything hurt. It felt as though his entire body had been set alight. But he had to stay, had to help. If this man was the one responsible for the Homunculi and all they had done, he needed to go down. Even if...even if they had to kill him. Ed didn't like the thought of it, didn't want to ever kill anyone, but...after all the atrocities that had been committed...all the things he'd planned to do...

"Envy told me a few things about this guy, while I was down here." He admitted. "The things that this guy had planned, the atrocities he's committed and was going to commit again." He took a shaky breath. "We have to kill him, once and for all. And you'll need my help."

"Can you even fight?" Mustang asked as he helped Edward to his feet.

"Of course I can."

"I don't quite believe you." Mustang said. Ed waited. "But you're right. We need your help. Do you have a plan?"

Ed sighed. "I do, but you're not going to like it."

./././././././././

"I don't like this." Mustang whispered from behind him as they sneaked across the room the size of roughly six football fields. "I really don't like this."

"I said you wouldn't." Ed whispered back, peaking out from behind a pile of rubble. By now Havoc had stopped firing, him and Hawkeye having taken cover somewhere. That left Hohenheim to battle Father on his own. Really though it was more Hohenheim was trying not to be killed. Without Mustang's flame contributing to Hohenheim's poor attempts at offense, the man had given up and was focusing purely on not dying. Father was throwing onslaught after onslaught at the man, and Ed was impressed he hadn't been flattened yet.

Currently the two were high up in the air, Father using his alchemy to attack Hohenheim with all manner of rock-based creations, with Hohenheim was constantly putting up walls and shields to avoid them. Ever so slowly, he was being pushed back to the ground.

"We have to drain the energy from his Stone." Ed whispered to himself, reminding him of what had to be done.

"We need him close to the ground," Mustang said, his finger twitching with the need to snap. Thankfully, Ed noticed, the Colonel resisted the urge. They couldn't attack yet. Not yet. They were hoping that he would forget they were there, to be honest. It was a fools hope, and they knew it, but it was all they had. They needed the element of surprise or Ed would never manage it.

But they also needed a diversion. Ed shuddered, hoping things didn't go anymore awry.

And of course, the moment he did that, they did.

The universe was helpful like that.

Ed swore out loud as Hohenheim was knocked from the air and plummeted to the ground. Instinctively he clapped his hands and pressed them to the ground, and two giant hands erupted from the ground to catch Hohenheim and pull him safely to the ground before he splattered.

"Stick to the plan. Don't let the others ruin it." Ed hissed to Mustang as he left his cover and ran to Hohenheim. Somewhere along the way he'd lost his glasses. And his Philosopher's Stone was depleting, it seemed. His injuries weren't healing anymore, and the man was bloodied up badly. He was also knocked out cold.

"Fuck." He hissed.

"Edward Elric." A voice sounded, and Ed stiffened. 'Father' sounded almost like Hohenheim did, but somewhere in his voice there was a difference. A coldness. Like his very soul had shriveled and died. It likely had. Ed clapped his hands to the ground and a block of earth rose from the ground, scooping up the unconscious Hohenheim and carrying him to relative safety at the edge of the room, where it then rose up to form a protective wall of rock around him. Hopefully that kept the older man safe until he woke up.

Ed then turned, stiffly, and stood shakily to face Father. The first Homunculus. The resemblance to Hohenheim was uncanny, especially now that he was close. It was very disturbing.

"The one and only." He responded. Hopefully Mustang had made his way back around and found Havoc and Hawkeye and told them not to interfere yet. This required patience if it was going to work. At least Ed had his diversion now - himself. And, Father was on the ground now, striding slowly towards him.

Ed almost wished he wasn't though, as the man came right up to him. "You keep surprising me, Edward Elric." Father said. "That's twice you've escaped from me now."

"Yeah, well, hopefully I manage a third."

Father smiled at him, and it sent shivers down Ed's spine. "I doubt it."

Suddenly a pillar of rock burst out of the ground and slammed into Edward, sending flying backwards. He gasped as he hit the ground several meters away from where he'd been standing. Once again, his body exploded with pain, and he realised that the wounds on his torso had started to ooze blood again. When his eyes could once again focus, he realised that Father was once again standing beside him.

Pressing his hands to the ground, he moved to stand, but something collided with his shoulder and knocked him back down to the ground, wheezing.

"You know, you've been a pretty big nuisance for me lately." Father said. "All I wanted was for you to stay down here out of the way so I could commence my plans without your interference, and yet you continually did the opposite of what I wanted."

Ed was abruptly flying upwards after a block of earth struck him in his midsection. He fell back to the ground with a thud, smacking his head hard on the ground. Groaning in pain, he tried to breathe and instead coughed up a mouthful of blood, which splattered on the ground below him. He groaned again, rolling over onto his back as he waited for the ringing in his ears to subside.

He glanced back at Father, who was still standing in the same place, right beside him. There was a slight ridge in the earth behind Father's feet. Ed switched his gaze to look Father in the face, which was still trained on Ed, almost disinterestedly. He lifted his head, then decided against it and rested it back down onto the ground. Fuck, everything hurt so much. When his ears stopped ringing, he realised that the room was silent but for his ragged, uneven breaths.

"Come on, that really all you got?" Ed taunted as he rose to his knees and spat blood, his hands still pressed to the ground, balancing him. Father's eyes narrowed. "Seriously? That's really it? I'm almost disap-"

He was cut off as he was lifted into the air again, where an onslaught of rocks and earth smashed into him from all sides. He ducked his head under his arms in an effort to protect his skull even as he fell back down, screaming at the sheer drop.

Once again he crashed to the ground, and he screamed again as he felt his left arm snap in two. Gasping for breath, he curled up on the ground in the fetal position, staring dazed at the floor behind Father's feet, where the ridge in the ground had grown and become almost a full sized wall that was curling around towards him. Whimpering, he looked back up at Father, who was still focused intently on him. He casually pressed his palms to the ground again, flinching as excruciating pain shot up his broken arm. The wall slowly grew a roof, but Ed made sure not to even glance at it directly. He let his peripheral vision keep an eye on it as he stared at Father. And grinned.

Father stepped towards him, and with a flash of anger in his eyes, he kicked Edward swiftly in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Edward gasped, spat blood. Father kicked him again, and again, and then kicked him some more. When he was done, Ed began to laugh, even as it hurt.

"What is it about this situation that you find funny, Elric?" Father demanded. Edward wiped blood from his mouth and grinned.

"Oh, nothing really." He rasped, standing up slowly. "Just that you've stopped using alchemy." Father tilted his head, and then his eyes widened, and Edward roared, "NOW, MUSTANG!" as he threw himself sideways, and just before he hit the ground he heard the snap of fingers and then the roar of fire, heading straight for him, going past him, and he collided with the ground, screaming in pain, but he managed to clap his hands and press them to the ground, and rock rose up to trap Father inside the box he'd slowly been creating, leaving only a small space for Mustang's fire to get through, again and again and again.

Gunshots sounded through the roar of the flames, and the sound of bullets hitting flesh could be heard as Havoc and Hawkeye shot through the gap with their remaining guns, though Ed was too exhausted to notice what kind of guns they were using.

He lay down, resting his head. They could handle it now. They just had to keep throwing everything they had at him now until his Stone ran out of power and died.

He closed his eyes.

The ground shook violently, and as Ed opened his eyes and propped himself up the box exploded, sending chunks of rock flying in all directions. He screamed as something struck him in the shoulder, knocking him back to the ground hard.

Gasping, he opened his eyes again, and Father stood before him, energy crackling all around him, trying and failing to heal his wounds. He picked Edward up by the hair and threw him, and Ed screamed as he struck the wall and fell to the ground beside Mustang, Hawkeye, Havoc and Hohenheim, who had regained consciousness but was still dazed.

Mustang continued to snap, but Father just walked through the flames as they burned him. Ed squinted as a haze of energy crackled around him, and then suddenly it was blasting towards them, and Ed shut his eyes and prepared for the pain, but it never came.

He heard a pained grunt, and opened his eyes to see Hohenheim, kneeling in front of him, his arms spread wide. Edward gasped and rose to his knees, and realised the Hohenheim's entire back was smoldering.

"Shit, Hohenheim!" He grabbed the man's shoulder and it cracked underneath him. "What the fuck?" He realised that alchemy lines were trailing all the front of him, and they were slowly spreading.

Hohenheim opened his eyes, his gaze searching. "Edward..." He breathed, struggling to speak. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I-"

A pained cough sounded from behind him, and he turned to see Hawkeye, her body wrapped protectively around Mustang. He gasped and swore at the sight of her. The clothes on her back were burned through, and her back was exposed to the open, and Ed almost threw up when he realised the skin on her back had been boiled by the blast. Remnants of a tattoo were all but gone, and her skin was smoldering.

"Hawkeye!" He screamed, and she turned to look at him, breathed in relief that he was all right, and slumped down onto Mustang, still conscious, but barely. Mustang himself had sustained burns of his own, but nowhere near the severity that his Lieutenant had endured. Havoc was out cold behind Mustang, his jacket slightly burned but otherwise fine.

Just as the man began to gently duck out from underneath Hawkeye and place her on her stomach, Edward heard footsteps make their way towards him, and he screamed for Hohenheim to look out, but by the time the words pushed past his lips, it was too late.

Ed heard more screaming and realised they were his own as he watched Father plunge his hand into Hohenheim's back and come out the other side.

Right through Hohenheim's heart.

Ed screamed again as Father ripped his hand back out and Hohenheim fell forwards. Ed sprang forward and Hohenheim fell into into his arms. Somehow, he managed to grip Edward's shoulders in his large hands and pull himself up enough to look Edward in the eyes.

"I'm sorry Edward." He whispered. "I love you, and Alphonse. I love you, son, please don't forget that." He took a shuddering breath as he wiped a tear from Ed's face. Ed hadn't even realised he'd been crying.

"No, nonono don't you dare die on me, you rotten excuse for a father. Don't you dare!"

But Hohenheim just smiled. "You finally called me your father." He breathed, and Ed's breath hitched and Hohenheim closed his eyes and fell forward, no longer breathing, and Ed screamed and cried and held onto his body, but there was nothing he could do.

Hohenheim was dead.


	34. Chapter Thirty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll fight (fight), fight (fight), fight or be taken out alive  
> Fight (fight) fight, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide  
> Standing on the edge, am I better off dead?  
> How could I forget that I'm better than this  
> I've come too far to fade tonight  
> Fight, or be taken out alive
> 
> ~Fight (Icon For Hire)

Ed sobbed as his father started to disintegrate.

Within ten seconds, there was nothing left for Edward to hold on to. He took a deep, shaky breath.

And screamed.

He sprang forward, the agonizing pain in his body temporarily forgotten, and attacked Father with everything he had. His alchemy exploded around his as the earth reshaped and slammed towards the Homunculus, who deflected it easily. Somehow, killing Hohenheim had made the bastard stronger, as though he'd stolen what little energy Hohenheim's Philosopher's Stone possessed and channeled it into himself. Reaching this realisation only deepened Edward's wrath, and Father was the sole receiver of it.

Ed had to flip to the side in order to avoid a spear of earth that Father had flung towards him, and he almost collapsed from the effort. He regained his balance quickly though, and launched forward with another attack.

They battled like this for some time, each trying to wait the other out and see who would run out of energy first. They continued to throw wave after wave of offensive and defensive alchemy, going round in figurative and literal circles, trying to get the other to fall. But after some time, Ed noticed that Father's attacks were getting stronger.

How can he be getting stronger? He thought desperately, as he threw himself backwards to avoid being impaled. It doesn't make sense!

He clapped his hands and slammed them to the ground, creating an enormous fist from the earth and sent it hurtling towards Father, who sent up his own cone of earth to intercept. Their products of alchemy collided and Edward's stone fist shattered, while Father's cone continued to propel itself toward him.

He's not getting stronger, Edward realised, dread filling him as he narrowly missed being gutted.

I'm getting weaker!

Panic began to fill him as he realised that his injuries were taking too heavy a toll on him. He was too exhausted and he was losing too much blood to continue on for much longer. Hell, it was in miracle in and of itself that he'd lasted this long, Ed realised. He had to find some way to finish this, and quickly, or he was going to die.

He had to kill Father first.

It startled him slightly that he'd reached that point, but after what Father had just done, and after everything he'd ever done, Ed knew that it was the only choice. The only option. The only way to protect the people of Amestris, Hell, the whole world, even, was to get rid of Father before he could inflict any more harm.

Ed gasped as a pillar of earth scraped the side of his good arm, and he staggered sideways. Dammit, he was losing. He needed backup. In his condition, he knew that there was no way he could successfully defeat Father. Not on his own. He needed help.

Goddammit, he need Mustang and Hawkeye and Havoc. He needed them to wake up and help him!

And almost as if on cue, Edward heard a gun being cocked behind him.

He dove to the side to avoid being shredded by bullets, curtesy of one Jean Havoc. Most of the bullets Father deflected with alchemy, but two of them hit their mark, Ed saw. One hit him in the left shoulder and one in the head.

To their dismay, both wounds healed. But not as quickly as before. Edward staggered to his feet and kept going, kept throwing his alchemy at Father with all that he had left. He didn't want to risk getting too close though. He wasn't sure if he would survive a close range attack from Father now.

Not too soon after, Hawkeye joined the fray as well, adding her own bullets to the onslaught of copper that Havoc was providing. Father was finding it more difficult now to dodge the bullets, and being hit more often, and managed to deflect only a few. He was still healing, but slowly. Slowly enough that they might have a chance.

Ed threw a wave of alchemy at Father, rippling the ground underneath him and causing the Homunculus to stagger for balance. Ed was actually almost surprised it worked, but was glad it did when Havoc and Hawkeye both took the opportunity Edward had given them to fire on the distracted Homunculus and aim for specific points. The two of them managed to shot out both of his eyes and get several shots at his 'heart', where his Stone resided beneath his skin.

Ed was taken aback when the Homunculus actually gasped in pain. The red lightning zipping around his body, desperately trying to heal him, was almost ready to give out.

"Yes!" Edward cried, hope blossoming.

"Don't you dare finish this without me." Mustang said from behind him, and Ed whirled to find Mustang staggering slightly towards him. "I want some glory here too." The Colonel said, before snapping his fingers. Fire exploded from where the ignition cloth had lit the spark, and it roared towards Father, engulfing the Homunculus completely. From within the inferno, Father began to shout in pain, and Ed actually had hope they were winning.

Edward decided it was safe to get close now, and he ran towards the Homunculus as the flame died down, and he punched Father with his bare fist, again and again. He then drew back and created a quick spear with his alchemy, and he stabbed at him.

Father deflected with alchemy of his own, but it was flimsy and weak and didn't hold. He was so close to running out of energy in his Philosopher's Stone, Ed knew it wouldn't take much longer to kill him properly.

He couldn't find it in himself to care about taking his life. Not anymore.

Ed got close again and tried to swipe at Father's legs, but a wall of alchemy hit him and he stumbled sideways. He heard gunshots, and glanced back to see Riza shooting at Father with the pistol she had replaced the rifle with. The bullets hit their mark, and Father sent a ripple of earth at her, but she jumped out of the way, pulling Havoc with her.

Mustang burst into action again beside them, snapping his fingers and sending flame exploding towards Father, who had to stop and concentrate on healing himself rather than continue to attack.

As the flames died down Havoc shot the homunculus with his shotgun, twice, three times, and had to duck when chunks of rocks flew at him. Together Edward and Mustang threw their alchemy at Father, and then Hawkeye and Havoc joined with their bullets. After a few moments a wave of energy made them all fly backwards and hit the ground, but it was far less powerful than the first and did nothing to hurt them beyond the impact of hitting the ground.

Edward got back to his feet and ran at Father, spear in hand, but he sidestepped Edward and Ed lost his balance and fell forward. Father struck him in the back of the head and Ed fell to the ground, dazed. The pain from his injuries were really catching up to him, and he groaned. Father kicked him in the head and Edward went rolling. His head felt like it was going to explode. He heard the snap of fingers and felt the heat of Mustang's fire, and gunshots. Father was no longer looking at him, thinking he was down for the count. Ed tried to be silent as he crawled over to Father's back, his spear still clutched in his hand. He was preparing to thrust upwards when Father sent a concentrated blast of energy towards Mustang, but Hawkeye realised before the Colonel did leaped towards him, pushing him out of the way and taking the damage herself.

She screamed as the blast propelled her backwards into the air, burning through her clothes almost completely, melting the skin underneath. She hit the wall on the opposite end of the room with a loud crash, then fell to the ground amidst the rubble. Mustang instantly forgot about the battle and ran to her, but Havoc kept focused, aiming for a shot to the head.

Father staggered back, right into Ed's reach, and, bracing himself with his left arm, he screamed at the pain and thrust the spear upwards, right into the small of Father's back and straight through. The tip of the spear protruded out Father's chest and he coughed, blood leaking from his mouth. The Homunculus sagged backwards onto the spear, impaling himself even deeper, and a blast of rocks exploded towards Havoc the sent the man flying into Mustang, knocking them both over.

But it seemed that was all the Homunculus had to give. Edward realised that those waves of energy must have been horribly depleting on his Stone, and that Father had used it in a last-ditch effort to try and kill them and save himself. The rubble he'd knocked into Havoc hadn't been intentional, Edward realised as he yanked the spear from Father's body and the Homunculus collapsed. It'd been the Stone itself, releasing the last of it's energy in the direction Father just happened to be facing.

He had nothing left now.

He was dying.

Father began to thrash, mumbling no, over and over again, as the ends of his body began to disintegrate.

Wait a second. Ed thought, frowning. He's not disintegrating...his body is folding in on itself!

And it was. The whole Ed had put in the centre of his body was seemingly sucking the surrounding flesh into itself, like a black hole. Father looked down at himself and began to scream as he realised what was happening. As Father screamed and thrashed, Edward slowly got to his feet. He swayed when he finally managed to get upright, but thankfully he didn't fall.

He looked down at Father, and found himself pitying the Homunculus. After everything he'd done, all the people he'd killed and sacrificed in the name of power, he still feared death, just like everyone else. It was his fear of death that had caused him to seek power, which had led to here. His death.

"You know." Edward said, and Father looked up at him, barely any of his body remaining. "If you had have just left everyone alone and in peace, you wouldn't have had to die here."

Father's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but just as he took the breath to speak, the black hole in his chest engulfed him, and then itself, and then there was nothing left of the Homunculus but the memory of him.

He stared at the place where Father had just been for a few more moments, and then he himself collapsed, the pain becoming too much. He groaned, looking over to where Mustang, Hawkeye and Havoc were, and swore. Havoc was bleeding from his head, unconscious, and Mustang was on his knees, desperately trying to wake up an also unconscious Hawkeye, who was bleeding a Hell of a lot more than Havoc.

Edward forced his screaming limbs to stand once more, and he staggered over to them. He swore when he got close enough to see the odd angle Mustang's leg was bent at.

"Mustang." He groaned, and the Colonel turned back to look at him.

"Edward, we have to get her out of here." He said, his voice filled with panic. "She's going to bleed to death!"

Ed cursed again, colourfully, when he realised how bad off she really was. Almost her entire body was covered in horrible burns, she was bleeding from the head, like Havoc was, but worse. She was also covered in bruises and cuts and a massive gash along her right thigh that was losing blood fast. He swore again.

"Fuck! There's no way I can get her out of here in time with this leg!" Mustang was seriously starting to panic, and Ed wasn't too far behind him. They had to find some way to get her out of here quickly. If only they had something that could move...fast...

"Mustang. I can do it." He said.

"What??" Mustang exclaimed. "Are you kidding me? You're arm's broken, you've been stabbed, sliced and smashed, and you think you can get her anywhere, let alone yourself? If Havoc would just wake up-"

"Mustang we don't have time to wait for Havoc to wake up, we need to get her to the hospital now!" He took a breath. "If I shift into my chimera form, I should be able to move fast enough to get her to the closest hospital before she bleeds out, but we need to move."

"Being a chimera doesn't change your injuries!"

"Sure it does." Edward lied. "Now take off your shirt and bandage that leg. We need to try and stop the blood flow if I'm gonna have any chance of getting her out of here alive."

"Shit, yeah." Mustang muttered, instantly pulling his shirt over his head and tearing it down the middle. He made quick work of bandaging the leg, but the shirt was soaked in blood almost immediately, and wouldn't be able to staunch the blood flow for very long.

Ed almost smacked himself. Cursing his idiocy, he unbuckled his belt - doing his best to suppress a shudder at doing so in front on Mustang - and pulled it from the loops of his pants. The leather hissed as he pulled it free and knelt down next to Hawkeye's unconscious form. As gently as he could, he lifter her leg onto his lap and then wrapped the belt around her thigh right above the wound, then pulled it as tight as it would go and buckled it back up. "There, that should work better." He said, laying her tourniquet'd leg back down and getting back to his feet, not without some difficulty.

"As soon as I shift, lift her onto my back." Edward instructed. "Then try and wake up Havoc, and get yourselves out of here. You may need to bandage his head, too." He added as an afterthought.

"Ed, how is she going to stay balanced on your back if you're running in chimera form?" Mustang asked, and Ed realised he had a point. He clapped his hands and pressed them to the ground, and alchemy sparked around his hands. As he lifted himself up a long coil of rope came with him.

"Tie her to me with this." He said, tossing the rope to Mustang, who fumbled for a second but didn't drop it.

Without another word, Edward shifted. He bit down on his lip to keep from howling in pain as his very anatomy changed. His limbs dislocated and put themselves back together, his skull elongated, his tailbone grew, his hands and feet became paws. As soon as the shift was complete he stood on all fours, doing his best to discreetly keep his weight off of his broken left foreleg. The shirt that had been wrapped around his torso fell to the floor, shredded, and the remainder of his pants clung to his hind legs in tatters.

He felt Mustang somehow manage to lift Hawkeye onto his back, and he staggered a moment with the added weight. Taking a breath, he steered himself against the pain as Mustang tied her to him as quickly as he could. With her laying on her stomach, Mustang wrapped the rope around her back and underneath his belly, and Ed tried not to hiss as it rubbed the wounds Lust had left him. The Colonel also tied her wrists around his neck and used the remainder of the rope to connect her feet underneath his belly so they didn't jostle as much.

When he was done, he nodded to Edward, who nodded back, and sprang forward.

He ran as fast as he could, doing his best to remember how the Hell to get out of here. He knew there was an exit somewhere around here, the drainpipe he'd used the first time he'd escaped. But dammit, he wouldn't fit himself and Hawkeye through that space when they were tied together, especially not in his wolf form. He needed another exit. Shit.

As he sprinted he remembered Hawkeye telling him how she'd found him, how they'd gotten in. There was an old abandoned house on the outside of Central that worked as a secret entrance. If he could remember the directions she'd described to him, he could get them out.

He did his best to remember what Hawkeye had said, but the pain was excruciating. Having to run at full speed on his broken leg was almost blinding him with agony, on top of all his other wounds. Every wound he'd received from Lust and Father were opening and bleeding freely, and he didn't need to glance back to know that even without Hawkeye, he was leaving a veritable river of blood behind him.

The physical weight of Riza was also slowing him down.

Not that she was particularly heavy, but she was a well built, muscular woman, and having to carry her atop his innumerable injuries was taking it's toll. He genuinely wasn't sure if his body, even in it's strengthened chimera form, would be able to make the journey to the hospital.

He shook those thoughts from his mind. He couldn't afford to think like that, not with Riza's life in his hands. She was depending on him to get her to the hospital in time for them to treat her, to save her life. Worrying about not making it would only hinder his efforts to get her there.

As he turned a corner he stumbled, roaring in pain as his broken leg struggled to stay balanced. His shoulder crashed into the wall, and it took all of his effort not to crush Hawkeye as gravity tried to make the rest of his body follow suit. Thankfully, by some miracle, he was able to keep the Lieutenant from being crushed between his body and the hard stone.

He staggered, having lost the momentum that had kept him going. He made a noise somewhere between a shout and a whimper as he used the walls to propel himself forward in one quick burst and get himself moving again. He was breathing hard, his pulse pounding in his skull. "Come on, come on," He panted, chanting the words to himself, over and over, in an effort to keep himself focused.

Ed forced himself to keep running, running through the seemingly endless underground maze, the sheer enormity of it threatening to be the thing that killed them both.

Because Edward wasn't stupid.

Getting Hawkeye out of here was probably going to kill him.

He was destroying his body in order to get her out of this horrible place. He was bleeding out just as much as she was, possibly more. The only reason it was him saving her and not the other way around was because he had the gift of consciousness and a body that had been designed and rebuilt to withstand almost anything. But even if he made it to the hospital in time to save her life, he knew he'd probably drop dead at the doorstep, having pushed his body, as capable as it was, so far beyond it's limits.

He actually scoffed. Who knew he'd actually be thankful for the things those alchemists had done to him. It was the only thing that gave him a chance at saving the Lieutenant.

He kept running until a light could be seen up ahead, and he gasped. He'd found his way out.

He pushed himself harder, and let out a whoop of joy as he leaped out of the doors of the 'basement'. His joy was short-lived, however. As he landed back onto the ground, his broken leg tripped on something, he didn't know what, and he fell forward, head-first into the dirt. The rest of his body came tumbling down with him, and he crashed into the ground, skidding several feet.

He screamed in pain, but looked over his shoulder to check on Hawkeye. Thankfully, she hadn't been hurt any more than she already was by his fall, but every moment he wasted here on the ground was another moment of her rapidly ending life.

He groaned, and tried to push himself back onto his feet, only for his strength to fail him, and he fell right back down. "No!" He groaned, his entire body trembling. He had to get up. He couldn't fall here. He'd just made it out of that goddamn Hellhole for fucks suck! He had to get his ass into gear and get the Lieutenant to a hospital!

But God, he couldn't move. He was so exhausted, in so much pain, and a part of him wanted to just lay down, close his eyes and never open them again. It would be so much easier. After everything he'd been though in this Hell he called a life, after losing mum and the Transmutation, after being raped and experimented on and beaten and abused, after the man he considered his true father had been tortured and murdered, and he'd been beaten and abused and then raped all over again. After his biological father had died in his arms, didn't Edward deserve to just lie down and sleep forever? After everything, couldn't he just...forget?

He took a breath.

"No."

He forced his uncooperative limbs to move. "No. That's not forgetting," he breathed as he managed to lift himself off the ground. "That's giving up." He swayed, staggered, but forced himself to take a step forward.

"I'm Edward fucking Elric for God's sake." Another step. "The Fullmetal Alchemist. I can't just give up!" Another, and another. "I have people depending on me, I can't just be selfish and quit because it hurts!" He moved faster, and faster, until he was running again.

"I am Edward Elric, and I will not give up!"

He ran, pushed himself as hard as he could go, and then just a little bit more, and looked around to give himself an idea of where he was. They were at the south end of Central City. Now that he knew where he was, he headed towards the closest hospital he knew of, and ran like Hell itself was at his heels.

Finally, the hospital was in sight, and Edward realised that the sight of a bloodied monster running through the streets with an equally bloody woman atop was causing the Central civilians to panic and run away, screaming. He payed them no mind, reasoning that they were only helping him, however intentionally, by staying out of his way.

As he reached the entrance to the hospital, he changed back into his human form, mid run, and suddenly the weight was too much. He collapsed, literally at the doorstep, and twisted as he fell in order to break Riza's fall. He gasped as her weight falling on top of him nearly crushed him. The roped that had tied her to him fell away, suddenly having nothing to keep them taut.

"Emergency!" He screamed as loud as he could, and as hospital staff ran out, and orders were shouted, he handed Hawkeye to a doctor, who placed her on a gurney.

"Quickly!" He gasped. "She's bleeding out!"

The doctor already knew that, though, and payed no more heed to Edward as he rushed Hawkeye inside, yelling for assistance. Ed tried to stand as more hospital personnel rushed outside to assist the half naked idiot outside, bleeding every wound imaginable, but found his body had nothing left to give. He collapsed, and as his vision blurred and his head swam, he realised that he'd done it. He'd gotten Hawkeye to the hospital, and they were going to stop the bleeding and save her life. He'd saved her.

Edward sagged, sucking in a ragged breath. I did it... He thought, as he closed his eyes and the world went away.


	35. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We stand undefined  
> Can't be drawn with a straight line  
> This will not be our ending  
> We are alive, we are alive
> 
> ~Imperfection (Evanescence)

The Winter air was cold, and the Hughes family were rugged up warm as they played in the snow. Alphonse and Elicia Hughes took joy in the snow that was as deep as their ankles. They made snow men, snow angels and had snowball fights, as their vigilant mother, Gracia, watched on, keeping her eye on the children and the people surrounding them. The sky was clear today, so they weren't the only family outside, though they were the first. Alphonse had quickly been joined by some of his friends, as had Elicia. Though as the day had progressed, the group had dissipated, until it was just Al and Elicia again.

Alphonse looked back over his shoulder, grinned and waved.

"Ed, come play with us!" He called.

Edward smiled, but shook his head. "Nah Al, I'm good over here." He said. Al shrugged and went back to building a snowman with Elicia. Gracia smiled down at him from her place beside Ed on the park bench.

"Edward Hughes," She chided lightly. "Why don't you go play with your brother?"

Ed sighed. "I just...don't feel like it, Gracia." He said. Gracia nodded her understanding, but didn't say anything, choosing instead to scoot a little closer and wrap her arm around his shoulder. It was something she'd been doing to comfort him ever since the woman had adopted him a few months ago, and Edward found he quite enjoyed it. He leaned into the contact a little more, breathing deeply.

He remembered the day Gracia had told him that she had adopted him. He'd spent his entire stay in the hospital waiting for the day he'd be released, but he'd stressed as to where he would go once that day came. He'd already been released from Mustang's 'care', and as relieving as that was, he was terrified he was going to end up trapped in the Foster system, as Pinako had already been deemed unfit to look after him due to her age. She'd been told by the child welfare officers that she was lucky to continue to keep custody of her granddaughter, and not to push her luck by trying to take in anyone else. Ed had understood, and told her not to try and pursue the matter any more. She'd argued, wanting to fight for him, but Edward had made it clear to her that Winry had to be her first priority, and, reluctantly, Pinako backed down.

Despite telling her that he'd be fine, he was still sweating bullets the day he was to be released.

And then, at the last moment, Gracia had walked into his hospital room, the same time as she visited every day, with her daughter and her adopted son at her heels. And then she'd pulled the adoption papers out of her pocket, and Edward had cried.

Now here they were, three months later, enjoying the snow. As he watched his brother and sister playing, Ed thought about what had happened directly following the defeat of Father. After he'd made it to the Hospital and saved Riza's life, almost killing himself in the process, he'd been put in a medically induced coma for a week while the doctors had done their best to heal him. He'd woken up with a pounding head and a sore...well...everything, but the first thing he'd done was ask where she was and if she was okay. He'd been relieved to hear that she was.

"Alphonse! Elicia!" Gracia called from beside him. Both kids heads snapped up and looked towards them. "It's time to go home!" She informed them.

Edward stood up beside her and stretched while they waited for Al and Elicia to make their way back to them. When they dad, Al took his place beside Ed, and they followed Elicia and Gracia back home.

Edward and Alphonse had been getting closer again in these past few months. Not quite as close as they once had been - they'd probably never reach that level of interdependence ever again - but they had closed most of the gap that had grown between them after Ed had been recovered from the Chimera lab two years ago. Ed trusted Al to talk to now, though he didn't talk to Al about his problems with Al much as he used to with Maes.

But he was getting there. Trying. He was making an effort to bridge the gap with his brother, and Ed thought that Hughes would be proud of of him for that.

Ed looked at his younger brother, smiling softly, and wrapped an arm around the only-slightly-smaller boys shoulder. Al looked up at him, beaming, and wrapped an arm around Ed's waist. They pulled each other close for a few moments, before letting go when they were getting too far behind. When they resumed walking, Ed felt warm despite the cold.

He'd missed having someone he could do that with.

When they arrived back at their apartment, Gracia turned on the radio while the two youngest went to change into dry clothes. Ed plopped himself down on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes, listening to the radio hostess.

"-and minus 5 degrees estimated for the rest of the week. In other news, the authorities still do not know what happened to Fuhrer Bradley and his son, Selim. The Investigations Department continues to search for clues as to what happened that day the Fuhrer and his son disintegrated before the eyes of the public six months ago, but-"

Ed snorted in amusement. He doubted that Investigations would ever actually come up with an explanation for what happened. The Fuhrer had apparently been addressing the public, attempting to calm them down and distract them from the rumbling that was happening underground, his son at his side, when they had abruptly began to disintegrate in front of the citizen's eyes. Ed had done some cross referencing, and discovered that the Fuhrer and his son had began to disintegrate at the same moment that Father had properly died. Edward suspected that because Father was the one who had created them, that the Homunculus had tied his children's life forces to him. When he died, they died.

Which is why Ed had been shocked that Selim Bradley had died, too. That meant that the child was also a Homunculus. As much as that had alarmed Ed, he couldn't help but feel sorry for Mrs Bradley, who had lost her husband and her son at the same time, leaving her traumatised and alone.

On the other hand, it was comforting to know that any other Homunculi Father may have made had also died with him.

Havoc, Hawkeye and Mustang agreed.

Ed laughed softly to himself. Those three had given Edward all of the credit for being the one to land the final blow on Father and kill him, but as far as Edward was concerned, Lieutenant Havoc was the one who deserved the credit. Ed wouldn't have been able to make that final blow if Havoc hadn't distracted and debilitated Father with the shot to the head. Ed thought Havoc was the one to congratulate, not him. Besides, the whole thing was a team effort. Without Mustang and Hawkeye, it never would have even gotten to that point. The four had agreed to give each other equal credit for what they'd done.

Not that anyone else could or would know what they'd done to save their country, but it was nice to know that among their small group, everyone had had an equal part to play.

Ed was broken out of his reverie by three knocks on the apartment door.

"I'll get it!" He called. Gracia was in the middle of cooking, so he thought he'd be useful and get it for her. He stood up and made his way to the door, peeking through the peephole before opening it. When he saw who it was, he smiled and unlocked the door, opening it wide.

"Hey Riza!" He said.

"Hello, Edward." Hawkeye said.

"Come in." Ed gestured with his arm for her to enter, and when she did he shut the door behind her. "Dinner should be done soon." He told her as he led her to the lounge room. They both sat down on opposite couches, facing each other. "So how've you been, Riza?" Edward asked.

"Not too bad I suppose." She responded. "Investigations has been hassling us, trying to find out if we know anything about Bradley." She scoffed, amused. "They're not getting very far."

"I didn't think they would." Ed chuckled. "How's the team?"

"We're doing well. Fuery got promoted."

"Warrant Officer. Cool."

"Yes. He's quite happy about it."

"I can imagine."

"So, Edward. How have you been doing?"

"Alright, I guess." He said. "Al and I have been getting closer again. It's been...nice, having someone else to talk to. I missed how close we used to be."

Hawkeye nodded, understanding.

"How's Jennings?" She asked.

"He's alright." Ed said. Crowley Jennings was Edward's therapist, who Edward had reluctantly agreed to go see once a week a few months back, at Hawkeye's request. As much as he'd hated it the first few sessions, Edward found that Jennings was actually quite helpful, and he was part of the reason Edward was actually getting better. It had been Jennings' encouragement to mend things with Al that had prompted Edward to actually try.

The man was also helping him deal with the things that had been done to him two years ago when he'd been used as an experiment, and the things that Lust had done to him six months ago.

"Yeah, he's...he's been a huge help. Thank you for convincing me to go."

Riza smiled. "You're welcome, Edward."

A moment of silence followed, and then, "Edward? I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What is it."

"When Gracia adopted you, I expected you to keep your surname, Elric, but instead you took on Hughes as your last name." Hawkeye said. "I was just...wondering why."

Ed thought for a moment before speaking. "Edward Elric is famous. There's barely a soul in Amestris who doesn't know the name. And...I don't want to be Edward Elric anymore. I don't want the fame that came with being a dog of the military, and I don't want the history. Edward Elric was a lot of things I don't like to remember. Besides, everyone knows of Edward Elric. No one knows who Edward Hughes is."

"That...makes sense." She paused. "You know what? I think Hughes suits you better, anyway."

"Thank you."

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company, when Gracia called out to them.

"Dinner's ready!"

Ed and Riza stood and made their way to the dinner table, Elicia and Alphonse not too far behind them. They all sat down and dug in - Hughes was no liar, Gracia really was a fantastic cook. The meal was delicious, and they all chatted happily as they ate.

Edward looked around at them all, watching them talk, talking with them. Everyone was enjoying themselves, even Ed. They all loved it when Riza came over for dinner, something she did regularly lately.

As he watched his family, Edward realised something.

He was content. Happy. Despite the past, he had a good life now and a wonderful family.

And honestly, that was all he really needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, the story ends. Hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another one I started way back in 2015, but the writing steadily improves (I think/hope) as I didn't finish it until December 2017, so the last few chapters are recent-ish.   
> Enjoy another of my writing monstrosities


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